Not Trying To Find North
by xxxEmma3xxx
Summary: sequel to Another One, A Better One. NOW COMPLETE! And deleted scenes now up.
1. Jack is extricated

A\N: This is the sequel to _Another One, A Better One. _You really need to read that one first, (especially the last chapter, which is actually the prolog to this) or this story will make no sense. Enjoy!

* * *

Barbossa eventually came to with his eyes closed, but rather than opening them he threw an arm over his face to block out the agonizing sunlight. His headache was so bad he moaned aloud and whispered _Jesus stop it. _Before he could scold himself - he'd taken bullets with less fuss than he was taking this - someone said, "_Regarde_, 'e's awake!" 

People. In his room. Barbossa sat up immediately, squinting hard against the headache, and tried to piece together his situation. Eight pirates who did not look friendly, his sword and pistol lying on the floor well out of reach, and a set of aches and pains that even the worst hangover could not explain.

Ow. He could move all right and nothing seemed quite broken, but a quick glance down at himself confirmed that he'd been worked over pretty good the night before. Oddly, he couldn't for the life of him remember when or how it had happened. He'd had a girl up here. He'd gone to bed. Then what?

Someone shifted on the bed next to him. "Morning, mate."

Holding onto his pounding head with both hands, Barbossa swung around to face Jack, who looked like he'd been through the wringer himself. After a quick check to make sure Jack had all his clothes on, considering they were in the same bed together, he asked, "What's goin on?"

"I think we've been kidnapped," Jack explained placidly. "Or rather, _I've_ been kidnapped. You were already here. So I suppose we'd say, I was kidnapped and you were invaded."

Barbossa's head was clearing, but it was taking time. _No fear. Look bored. Sigh and talk to Jack. _"Have they said what they want?"

"Nah, they won't talk to me. Ask that fellow over there - the one who talks funny."

Barbossa looked at the one Jack was indicating. There was a scar stretching from the outside of one eye all the way down to the corner of his mouth on the other side. And Jack had referred to him as _the one who talks funny _. He forced his brain to concentrate and produce information on pirates with deforming scars, who talked funny. Almost at once a name came to mind. "You must be Prince."

It was a nickname supposedly acquired early on because his shipmates thought his accent sounded snooty, but it didn't seem to bother him now. "Yes. Pleased to meet you."

Barbossa couldn't say the feeling was mutual. "Whad ye want with us?"

Prince's mouth moved and Barbossa winced - even to a man who respected a lot of scars, the face looked awful. He rubbed his eyes and realized he had missed whatever had been said. "Sorry?" he asked, trying to massage away the stabbing at his temples.

"I said, rumour says you ave charts to z'end of ze world. It's said you ave sailed to a place where you wake ze dead."

"Perhaps that's true and perhaps not," Barbossa answered after a moment. "But it _is_ a fact that Davy Jones will nail my corpse to his bow afore he lets me pass that way again. If ye disappear this minute... and apologize for the roughhousin last night, which was not necessary nor appreciated," he added haughtily, "Then I'll sell ye the charts and you can make a go yourself."

"I am afraid I do not trust you," Prince said easily. "I want zat you will come along, so zat I know you are as committed to z'voyage as I am, and aven't sold me charts to nowhere."

Jack and Barbossa exchanged glances. _Are you thinking what I'm thinking,_ Jack's eyes asked. _Once he gets where he's going, he's got no need to keep us alive._

"Sorry," Barbossa said firmly, "We're not going." He wiped his mouth, which had begun to bleed again. Someone had apparently clocked him a good one - his favorite gold tooth had come loose. Nobody moved, so he put a bit of an edge to his voice. "I said no - why don't you all just clear out. We're done here."

"I'm afraid _no_ is not acceptable to me." There was a pause during which Barbossa resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and then Prince continued, "I ave much experience persuading people to do zat which zey do not wish to do."

"Course you do. But look at me," Barbossa laughed. "Do I look the type who can be persuaded anything? Try what you like; I guarantee your stomach'll give out before I do." This was his tried-and-true answer to threats of physical violence, and in all his life no one had ever called his bluff and questioned him uncomfortably hard. For all he knew he would crack in ten minutes.

Prince did not put him to the test, which was just as well since he had a reputation for butchering uncooperative prisoners bit by bit and very slowly. Instead, he looked past Barbossa and said to Jack, "And you, _mon ami_? Perhaps you value your life more than your friend does 'is?"

"Sorry, mate," Jack answered with a shake of his head. "I'd like to help you, I really would, but I've no idea how he got there. Both trips, I was dead and Barbossa was coming to rescue me."

"Oh. I see." There was a new note to Prince's voice that Barbossa did not particularly care for. "So he goes to a great deal of trouble for you, Captain Sparrow? One might think he would be willing to deal with me to save your life."

Barbossa spoke up: "Well, if one thought that, one would be wrong - did ye know that last time I sold Jack to the hangman myself? For which I don't even recall apologizin. Did I, Jack?" He turned from Prince to Jack and popped his eyebrows up a fraction, got an infinitessimal nod in response, and then the two of them leaped off the bed and threw themselves at their captors.

Everyone was caught off guard. Barbossa banged two pirates' heads together and Jack tackled one to the ground. Still, that left five to go, and if there was ever a time when Barbossa could fight five people by himself, it was not when he was hung over and beat up and well past his seventieth birthday.

He and Jack were soon pried off the men they were whaling on, shoved around a bit, and flung back onto the bed. "Now, what were we saying before zat interruption?" Prince mused once things had quieted down. "Ah yes: I was suggesting we should question you zrough Sparrow." He approached the bed and touched the tip of a knife to Jack's cheek, and Jack didn't think it prudent to jerk away. "First I suppose we will cut out 'is eyes," he explained calmly, "And zen 'is tongue. But I 'ope we can come to an arrangement before zat, since it would be a shame to lose a wit such as 'is. Shall we begin now, or do you wish to speak up before blood is spilled?"

Barbossa couldn't answer just yet because his stomach was rolling and he didn't want to give it any further provocation to heave up. Prince took his silence for reticence and pressed: "What you give him is a fate worse than death, you know. Zere is no place you can sail to zat will ever undo it." He beckoned for his men to come and hold Jack still.

"All right, mate, I think it's time to say something," Jack prompted, a little panicky.

Barbossa's mouth was full of blood again and he swallowed it out of the way. "You hold it right there," he snapped. "Jack's to be let go at once... Or I'll bite down." He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out briefly so they could all see something glittering on it.

"Poison capsule?" Prince smiled. "I commend you, Captain Barbossa. You are everyting I've 'eard and more." When Barbossa acknowledge the compliment with a nod, he added, "Come, I should hate to 'ave to harm you. Let us come to an agreement zat will allow us _all _to walk away alive."

There was silence for a moment, and then Barbossa barked suddenly: "Now don't you dare insult me intelligence - that be a lie!"

Prince cocked his head. "You don't believe I would let you live? Very well. I suppose you are correct. You ave a reputation... It would not be wise to make an enemy of you and zen let you go."

The accent was already getting on Barbossa's nerves. Pirates, in his opinion, should sound like pirates. "Tell it to me straight - if ye have the courage," he ordered.

"As you wish. I intend to kill you after you show me z'way. All zat remains is to decide how much z'two of you suffer before you tell me. And if you should poison yourself in ze meantime... what I do to Sparrow will be... truly terrible. Even for me."

Barbossa laughed outright. "How d'you expect that to bother me? I'll be dead."

Prince frowned - the poison was indeed a problem. "Spit it out and I will let him go."

"Let him go and I will spit it out," Barbossa shot back. "Now. Otherwise I'll..." he clacked his teeth loudly, ignoring the headache it brought him.

At a nod from Prince the pirates hauled Jack to his feet and pushed him towards the door. Incredibly, Jack resisted. "No - I won't leave you. You can't do this - I won't-"

"You can't do any good here," Barbossa pointed out. "You don't know nothin and all you'll do is get yourself killed. I won't lose myself _and _you _and_ my ship all in the same morning. I mean it." How could he communicate to Jack without getting anyone else suspicious? Nothing verbal... Aha. Ignoring Jack's panicked pleas, he unclasped his pendant necklace and held it out. "Take this, and take the ship, and go."

Jack shook his head, still not seeming to get it, so Barbossa sighed and stood up. "Do you think I'd forget the meaning of somethin this shiny? Or that I'd ever separate it from its rightful owner? Take it, and get out while ye still can." _Of course I'm not givin up yet! It'll go easier if we try to extricate one at a time. We'll get you out and then I'll worry about me. I'll be fine. Even if I have to take his stinking carcass to World's End, eventually I WILL be back to collect my necklace. _

After a long silence, with no sign that he took Barbossa's meaning, Jack hung the chain around his neck and turned away.

He was almost out the door before he said, "Wait." He took a deep breath. "Listen, are you really serious about this? You are, aren't you? All right, well... if you're serious... I mean, I know this is a terribly bad time to ask..." He put on his best sheepish sad-puppy look. "But d'you think maybe you could give _me _a hint about where you've stashed your charts?"

Barbossa was genuinely furious. "Is that a _joke_?"

_Obviously, you gorilla! I just want you to see that I understand what's going on. Do you really think I'd behave like this if you were about to sacrifice yourself?_

Jack made a big show of fidgeting. "Euh, actually, no it's not... apologies... It's just that if I'll have sole command of the now, then I think it makes the most sense for me to also have-"

"_GET OUT! YOU SORRY LITTLE INGRATE!_" Barbossa lunged for him, but Prince's men held them apart. Jack was kicked out and Barbossa soon forgot about him in light of his more pressing concerns.

"Now, spit," Prince ordered, "Or I go right after 'im."

"Deal's a deal," Barbossa agreed. "Wait til I can see Jack out the window so's I know he's been let go... all right, here you go." He hawked it up into his hand and held it out.

It was not a poison capsule at all, just his gold tooth that had fallen loose in his mouth, and Prince's face contorted with rage when he saw how he had been tricked. _Hector ye will pay for makin him angry,_ Barbossa told himself. _Yes well it will be worth it,_ he told himself right back, a little childishly. _Let me have my fun while I can._

* * *

_TBC._


	2. Barbossa learns about cables

A/N: My take on Barbossa's age... which _is _relevant to where the story is going:

Even counting how wear-and-tear makes a pirate look older, I figure in CotBP he's at least in his mid-40's. If we give him the benefit of the doubt and say he looks 45, then he's _actually _55, since he hasn't been visibly aging for 10 years. Let's say the events from CotBP all the way through DMC, through the end of rescuing Jack from World's End, all take place within a year. So he's 56 at that point. 9 years til he gets shot puts him at 65. 6 years from there until this latest adventure puts him at 71.

* * *

Prince wasn't all too pleased with his prisoner for the fake-poison-capsule trick. He suggested knocking out the rest of Barbossa's teeth so as to give him an opportunity to repeat it twenty more times. Barbossa bit back his _thank ye but don't trouble yourself _and just swallowed. 

Satisfied that the victim was through wisecracking, Prince gestured to the wobbly little coffee table.

His men knew straight away what to do. They forced Barbossa to his knees in front of the table, held him there, and pressed his right hand flat to the tabletop.

His _hand. _Immediately Barbossa began struggling, uselessly. "No," he panted, "No, _no, _God no." Even though he fought with everything he had it was clear he was getting exactly nowhere.

Prince came and bent over him. "Ready, my friend?" Barbossa had his head turned away from his doomed right hand and Prince sighed with irritation. "Look," he ordered softly. "Look _now._"

Barbossa knew that if there was ever a time to be conciliatory this was it, but he still couldn't bring himself to turn his head. Eventually Prince took him roughly by the hair, turned him in the proper direction, and pressed his cheek to the tabletop. Now all he could see was his right hand, pinned to the table inches from his face. There was a knife poised at his wrist, and when the point dug into his skin, a high whimpering sound escaped him. He was so panicked he didn't even notice.

"Relax, Captain," Prince purred into his ear after a moment. "I 'ave no intention of cutting off your 'and. Nor your fingers. Do you know what _zis _is?" He scraped the point of his knife slowly across the back of Barbossa's hand.

Barbossa couldn't speak. He jerked his head a little against the table.

"No? Well. Zese…euh… _cables, _here," he explained, tracing the line with his finger, "Are what let you open up your 'and, you see?" He held his own hand in Barbossa's line of vision and spread his fingers. "When I cut zem, your 'and will curl up like so... calls to mind a spider dying, does it not…?" He relaxed his hand into a loose fist and they both stared at it. "And you will never open it again." When he was finished with the demonstration he shook his hand out and smiled. "A shame, I know. But I've 'eard stories about you, my friend, and in case you should break free somehow, I don't want you able to swing a sword."

The knife wasn't actually touching him at this point, and Barbossa summoned up a little spirit. "I fight either-handed, you witless wonder."

Prince's voice tensed up but he tried to smile over it. "My mistake, Captain - I should 'ave made zis clear: I will cut z'cables in _both _your hands." He nudged Barbossa's foot with his. "And next, ze cables here – ze ones zat let you walk."

Barbossa swallowed down a sudden mouthful of booze and bile. _For God's sake stop and think_, he snarled to himself. _Ye cannot rattle him. Try somethin else._

It was hard to think, though, when the cold steel made contact with his skin again. He found himself spreading his fingers, pressing his palm hard into the tabletop, trying to get as far away from the blade as he could...

Finally, when the knife had tickled its way over his wrist and right to the hair at the back of his hand... the site of the proposed cut... he did something. "Wait!" he choked out. "Stop, stop it. Wait."

Prince laughed. "Already?"

"Just… wait," he repeated. "Let me think first – because by God if you cut me…"

He couldn't even think of a threat that was sufficiently horrible, but Prince understood. "But of course. Perhaps zis will help you make up your mind?" He had his men stand Barbossa up, and then gestured towards the vanity against the wall. "Please."

Barbossa made his way slowly to the mirror, rubbing and cradling his hand no matter how hard he told himself not to. Someone gave him a towel and he mopped off his sweaty face with it. They handed him his coat and he put it on. Before he could ask why the devil he was being made to tie back his hair and straighten his hat, Prince took it upon himself to explain:

"I want zat you take a look… one might say, a _last _look… at yourself as you are now. See how you stand there so proud, whole, and notice…."

And so on, and so forth. Barbossa was not listening. He was staring into the mirror as ordered, but certainly not wasting time watching himself. Instead, he was looking over his mirror-shoulder to see where his enemies stood, who was paying attention and who was not, who looked weak and who weighed a ton. There were eight people, and five were between him and the door. Only three blocked his path to the window.

The window, then. And how to clear himself a path? Well, Prince wanted him alive and two of his pirates looked too inebriated to shoot straight even at a short distance, so Barbossa decided to ignore them entirely. And as for the rest... He scanned the dressing-table in front of him. There was a candle, a big fat one, burning low. Several empty wine bottles.

He looked his mirror-self in the eyes and gave himself a fortifying nod and then, before Prince had even finished his monolog, sprang into action.

He hurled the candle, flinging hot wax into two faces and hitting a third one with the base. As the pirates jumped and screamed the threw a wine bottle from each hand. He hit one pirate dead one and another ducked. A gun went off from somewhere but he was already in motion, scooping his sword up off the floor and diving for the wax-blinded pirates who still stood between him and freedom.

By the time he realized he'd been shot, his arms were around one pirate's waist and he was barreling into another and taking it all out the window.

* * *

Jack looked up at the sound of glass shattering. "Finally," he muttered as a mess of two pirates plus Barbossa tumbled from the second-story window and crashed down onto the pile of garbage Jack had built up as a cushion. Everyone seemed to be alive, so he bashed the two he didn't want and pulled Barbossa to his feet. 

Without a word they made their way back to the _Pearl _as fast as they could given Barbossa's stunningly poor condition. Once at the ship, Jack reached for his friend's coat to see about stopping wherever that blood was coming from, but Barbossa shook him off. "Go to bed."

Of course Jack didn't. Instead, he stuck around to watch Barbossa lunge for the railing and throw up what sounded like every meal he had ever eaten. He knew it was probably wiser to just disappear at this point, but… "Euw. You all right?"

Barbossa looked up, wiping his mouth. "Are ye still here? It be naught but too much wine last night," he lied. "I'm fine."

It seemed that Barbossa would say _anything _to get rid of him at this point… hmm. Perhaps he should make the most of this. "Good. Because I was thinking," Jack said delicately, "That perhaps after last night's little mishap you might reconsider that crazy idea I'm always talking about, eh?"

Barbossa spat over the side. "Which one?"

"You know… seeking out the Fountain of Youth. Just hear me out," he begged when Barbossa started making incredulous _hmmph_ing noises. "You know that ten years ago we'd've never had so close a shave. We'd have fought them off no problem. We're getting old, mate." He did not add, _especially you,_ but Barbossa snarled at him anyway.

"If you're tired of gettin old, Jack, I'll be happy to kill you right here."

Considering that his partner was always one to think, and think, and overthink every idea that was thrown at him, Jack figured that planting the seed was all he needed to do. He muttered a lot of apologies and vanished into the cabin.

* * *

Once he was alone, Barbossa sorted out his bullet wound and started thinking. The real problem here wasn't their brush with a grisly death – they were pirates; that sort of thing happened. The real problem, the one that made it impossible for him to stop heaving, was how terrified he'd been over the threat to Jack's safety. Jack's eyes getting poked out should be nobody's problem but Jack's, and yet, here he'd been just about ready to trade his services to stop it from happening. 

Twenty years ago the idea would never have crossed his mind. Fifteen years ago he might have thought it up, then smacked himself in disgust for being such a softie. Ten years ago he would have given it a moment's consideration and then rolled his eyes, five years ago he would have said no but felt badly about it… and today he had been ready and willing to make the trade.

So perhaps the Fountain of Youth was a good idea after all – his sudden sissiness was clearly the result of old age. You got sentimental in your later years, everybody knew that. The way to fight it was not to grow old or, if it was already too late for that, to take a swig from the Fountain of Youth to try and reverse the damage. Barbossa was sure he could recapture his infamous coldness if he could only turn back the clock a ways. And he _had _to, because otherwise, how was he supposed to live, knowing that he could never again put Jack's life to foolish risk, never again operate from a position of perfect leverage where nobody had any means of making him do something he didn't want to do... How was he supposed to live like that?

And that wasn't all. He no longer had the right to vent and rage whenever the mood took him – because what if Jack decided one day that he'd had enough of it and went looking for another ship?

Well, _that _at least he could take care of straight away. Barbossa stormed into the cabin and shook Jack awake. "Promise me somethin now or I'll gut you where you lie," he rasped into Jack's face.

Jack winced at the breath. "Are you _still _sicking it up? Never thought I'd say this, mate, but you need to stop drinking."

"Never mind that. Listen here: we'll go after your damned fountain, providin you swear you'll never walk away from the _Pearl._ Not ever, not for any reason. Swear it!"

"You sound like Tia reading Davy Jones the riot act." Jack got out of bed and walked slowly for the door. "You need some sleep, mate. Of course I'm not going anywhere."

"Then we'll do it. But if ye say anythin even remotely resemblin _I told you so,_" Barbossa warned him, "I'll toss you overboard right here." Afterwards he almost regretted the words; not ten minutes since he'd thought about treating Jack better and already…

But Jack didn't seem to mind. "Not a word," he assured, smirking only a little. He pantomimed turning a key over his mouth.

On second thought, perhaps it would be best to keep walking all over Jack as much as possible. Even with Barbossa's best efforts to bully him he was a handful; letting him know his status had improved could only lead to bigger headaches. And if they were really going to a place that even the most credulous legend-mongers hesitated to claim existed, then more headaches was absolutely the _last _thing Barbossa needed.

* * *

Tia Dalma was on her feet with her arms crossed when they opened her door. "You want somet'ing," she said without preamble. 

Jack turned to Barbossa, seemingly delighted. "See? I told you she has second sight!"

"Or else," Tia suggested, still not friendly, "She knows dat you always come back when you want some'ting... and no time else."

"Oh, come on, love, don't be like that," Jack begged. "This one's important, and we've no idea where else to go for help. You're our only hope. We want directions to the Fountain of Youth."

She looked hard at each of them in turn, thinking it over. "Da help you seek not goan be found at dat fountain."

"Well, we think it's a start," Jack answered brightly. "So just tell us how to go, and we'll be on our way."

"So ya not only greedy... yar stubborn, too. All right, Jack Sparrow," she said after a moment, "Have it yar own way. I'll make him younger, and den we see wheder it be what you want."

Because of all the minor magic she'd worked for them over the years, often practically for free, it was sometimes hard for Jack and Barbossa to remember Tia Dalma as the sorceress who'd been mean and powerful enough to assign Davy Jones his dark fate. They didn't always remember that she could be quick to offend and difficult to appease... that she was impulsive and capricious in dealing out punishments, especially when her feminine vanity had been wounded.

When she got out two glasses and poured a bit of foul-looking grey mixture into each, they toasted and tossed back the potion without a second thought.

Tia sat back and watched contentedly as they rocketed out of their chairs and fell screaming to the floor.

* * *

TBC. 

Woo hoo, a mystery potion! Loads of fun, I promise.

Thanks for being so patient and for all the feedback for last chapter. Expect an update Thursday. Let me know what you think so far!


	3. Jack considers breaking his own arm

A/N: I saw the trailer for AWE, and also that clip about "that makes you... chart-man!" and I am SO PSYCHED for this movie! And yes, lines from the chart-man clip found their way into here. I couldn't help it.

This chapter's kind of silly. (Sorry?)

* * *

When it was finally over Barbossa got to his knees slowly, eyes closed, feeling disoriented and very strange. _Well, what do you expect, to have years of wear and tear pulled right out of ye, hmm? _he reminded himself. He finally opened his eyes and sitting up across from him was... himself. "Ehh?" he asked, bewildered. His voice didn't come out right at all but he still didn't get it. 

"All right, mate, don't lose your head," Barbossa's mirror-image warned him. "I know this isn't quite what we had in mind. Listen – it's me, it's Jack. I know I look like you, but-"

"Ehmm..." Barbossa looked down at himself then. He was younger, all right... younger and with dreadlocks and a dirty striped sash round his waist. "_Aagh! _Jack! I'm you? No - I don't want to be you!"

"How d'you think _I_ feel?" Jack sighed. "At least _you _get to be handsome. Good news is Tia told me it should wear off in a couple of days, so long as we don't drink any more of that awful potion. Apparently she thought it would be funny."

Barbossa scrambled to his feet. "What the devil have ye done to us, you God-cursed witch?! Put it right, this minute, or so help me..."

Jack was making frantic shushing gestures, but it wasn't until Tia actually spelled it out for him that Barbossa shut his mouth. "You wan' to be careful wid me, Hector," she warned, "Cause dere's mar where dat came from."

Barbossa took a deep breath, then went to check his reflection in the windowpane. "How long've I been out?" he asked Jack, determined to ignore Tia Dalma from now on because if he looked at her again he would probably kill her.

"Not too long. I got up right away - apparently this heap is a lot more resilient than one would expect for somebody your age."

Despite himself Barbossa was offended. "I'll carve ye to pieces at _any _age, Jack Sparrow, if you dare-"

"Aright, aright." Jack found it difficult to sway properly wearing all of Barbossa's heavy accoutrements and impeded by his big coat, but he managed. "So what should we tell the crew?"

Barbossa hardly had to think about it. The body switch had been an accident, was a problem, and it was best for the crew to know as little as possible about any problems their captains might be having. "Nothin. Until we switch back, I pretend to be you, and you me."

Jack knew it wouldn't be half as easy as his partner was assuming, but he was willing to give it a try. "Fine, so from now on, when we argue, _I_ get to..." Jack reached out to slap his former face.

Barbossa ducked under it, came up right away and whacked _his _former face right back. "Try it and I'll gutcha," he spat, the anger sounding a little out of place in Jack's voice. Jack was rubbing his cheek, and Barbossa stared at his new hands with something very like wonder. "By the powers, Jack, you are quick."

Jack was quick to correct him, growling. "If we're bein each other, then ye can't call me Jack, _Jack_. Quit makin mistakes."

The dark eyes were sparkling with rage but Barbossa did his best to keep it out of his voice. "Very well, _mate._"

"That's better. And you can't look so angry. You need to _relax._" He waved his hands a little to demonstrate, and Barbossa felt his lip curling in disgust at what his body was being made to do.

"Never do that again," he ordered, and then had a few very terrible thoughts. "And Jack, if by chance we should stop at Tortuga or Singapore or what-have-ye, that body is to be used strictly _with wenches only._"

Jack shrugged. "That one's not. Feel free to have all kinds of fun with it. I do." He grinned as Barbossa made horrified noises and wiped his hands on his clothes (as if that could possibly help anything). "All right, time to get in character. Ready?" He squared his shoulders and assumed a look of disdain. "Well? Jack? Let's go - Tia's told me everythin I need to know."

Barbossa flinched just a little before deciding he had better get used to it. "Right, mate. Then let's get ourselves back to the ship, and set off."

"Stop singing," Jack snarled at him. He adopted the lilt himself and explained: "Jack _Sspa_rrow doesn't _taa_alk like _thii_isss," then further demonstrated his imitative abilities by shoving him and threatening coldly, "Get it right, yamindless cockroach, or so help me you'll wish ye haaad."

Barbossa knew that if he was going to pass himself off as Jack, he had damned well better be able to take a tongue-lashing without losing his temper. "Fine," he chirped, flapping his hands in the air the way Jack so often did when things weren't going his way. "D'you like this better? Should I act like I've no idea what's going on, eh?"

Jack nodded hard. "Aye, it'll serve. To the ship!" He pointed with quite a bit more flair than Barbossa would have done, then stalked out without another word.

Barbossa followed him, and as he passed by their hostess he turned to her and said pleasantly, exactly the way Jack might have said himself: "Tia... darling... you know we're going to kill you for this."

"Well dat's only if you doan kill eachutta first," she observed drily. "Good luck to da bot' a'ya."

* * *

For the first few hours things went all right - they stuck together on deck and coached each other through their duties and nobody seemed to be any the wiser. 

The trouble started when they retired to the cabin for the evening. "Bed's mine," Jack declared as soon as the door closed behind them.

"How d'you figure that?" Barbossa frowned. "Twas yours last night."

"Well, I don't think it matters who _thinks _he slept in the bed, I think it matters whether our body actually physically spent the night on a mattress or not." Jack looked down at himself and spread his hands. "_This _clearly slept on the floor last night, mate. I ache."

Barbossa was suddenly sure that Jack had missed his true calling in life - he'd have made twice better a lawyer than a pirate. Fortunately, though, what mattered here was only who could impose his will on whom. "_I _clearly slept on the floor last night, I remember doin it, and I'm not doin it again. End of discussion, Jack. Give over."

But of course Jack was not through pushing his buttons - he pursed his (borrowed) lips and pointed out, "You know, you should _want _to pamper me now, considering it's actually _your _body I'm trying to take care of."

After a whole day of being bullied up and down the deck, Barbossa had had just about enough. "_Rarrr_!" He threw himself at Jack and tackled him to the mattress. He remembered that from the narrow escape the other day there was a brand-new gunshot wound to go for, so he put his hand over it and ground down hard until Jack was squealing for mercy.

"That's _your _ribs, you crazy bugger," Jack gasped when he was finally let up. He stood and backed away from the bed. "And you shouldn't pick a fight, because I'm a lot stronger than you now."

Barbossa snorted. "Jack, if I can pound ye with a twenty-year handicap, what on earth makes you think you'll even _survive _tanglin with me now?"

Jack grinned at him and stretched his arms over his head. "I dunno, mate, I feel pretty good. Now, seriously, get off the bed - if you're going to be Jack Sparrow you'd best get used to doing whatever a raging Barbossabeast tells you."

"No! And _you'd _best get used to copin with a disobedient lunatic in girls' underwear! I'm not goin noplace!" He crossed his arms and put his nose in the air the way Jack did at his most childish.

All of a sudden the giant raging Barbossabeast was on top of him, and he was fighting quite possibly for his life. They tumbled down from the bed and crashed to the floor. Jack landed on top, and with his new size advantage Barbossa couldn't even get him off.

Barbossa's wrist was pinned to the floor by his head and his elbow forced high in the air. He struggled and hissed out a panicked _Let go _before managing to sound authoritative. "You're not actually goin to break me arm."

"You said that last time."

"Yes, well, this time it be your _own _arm, halfwit!"

Jack had already learned to make excellent use of Barbossa's evil laugh. "This be a lunatic you're talkin to, remember?" he drawled. But a moment later he sighed and eased up. "No, I spose it's not worth it. Fine - you're free to go... but _I _get the bed."

"FINE!" As soon as he was allowed to rise Barbossa dusted himself off and tried to fix his makeup, which was an abysmal failure that created dark racoony smudges around both his eyes.

In the meantime, Jack was taking off his boots. When Barbossa noticed that, his temper flared up again. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Hmm?" Jack looked up. "What are _you _doing?" He no longer had to take orders from his very bad-tempered counterpart, so he continued undressing.

Shocked at being ignored, all Barbossa could think to do was repeat, "_What _are you doing!"

"What are _you_ doing," Jack echoed politely.

"What-" Barbossa shook his head to clear it. "First of all, it be _what ARRR ya doin, _not that other thing, and second-"

"And second, you're singing again," Jack pointed out. "And if you're me, it don't _be _anything."

"Anythin," Barbossa corrected. "Right, I'm you. Hold it." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and willed his body to relax - not an easy feat when he was so angry he was in danger of combusting. "Right then. What I was say_ing_, was that you'll need to speak just a little different if y'want to be believed. Try it."

He was still lilting a tiny bit, but Jack let it slide. "Aye, you're right," he growled. "So 'tis like this:" He put as much scorn and anger into the voice as he could and demanded, "What _arrrrr _ya doin?"

"You sound like you're makin fun."

"Mak_ing_. And maybe I am. How else am I supposed to sound like such an ogre?"

"Try actually gettin - get_ting_ - angry. And also, I repeat me original question: _what are you doing?_"

It wasn't hard to get angry with Barbossa jumping down his throat every two seconds. "_Arr! _Stop it!" Jack barked. "I'm going to bed! In the bed! What are _you _doing?!"

"Better. Now get up. You're _not _going to bed - there's another hour of work to be done on deck, which _you _get to go do, while I sit here and think up ways to hassle you when you get back."

Jack dressed again, grouchily. "I've been meanin to ask about that," he said when he was ready. "What exactly is it that you do, nights?"

"Skulk around," Barbossa answered immediately, "Makin sure- eugh. Mak_ing _sure every_thing_'s as it should be."

"What's that mean?"

Barbossa sighed and looked up from his seat on the bed. "First you check to see everybody's doin what he should, and scare 'em so they won't dare sleep on the job. Then... you know all those things you didn't notice before the mutiny? All the signs that the whole crew includin your own first mate were plottin against your life?" He gave him a crooked smile. "G'won out there and hang around a bit without the crew seein you, and if the signs be there, this time notice 'em."

* * *

Over the next two days Barbossa discovered that borrowing the life of Jack had its charms - the best was that he frequently got to sit around drinking or doing nothing at all while everyone else (including the other, _real _captain) slaved away, but there were others. He could play tricks like dousing the bed with seawater after Jack won the right to sleep in it, or carving _IDIOT _into his thigh when Jack wasn't looking (_Jack needed more scars anyway, _he told himself when he started to feel a little guilty). He could say anything he wanted, without thinking first, and not even worry that he was losing control of his crew. He could climb up in the rigging without doing unspeakably painful harm to his knees, could in fact do a backbend, and could drink what would kill an ordinary man without even getting sick. 

Of course, there were some unpleasant discoveries, too. Some were minor, like the realization that Jack's body required tendin to far more often than was convenient on a ship with no wenches. Of course, if he could learn to pilot an unfamiliar ship he could certainly learn to, er, fire an unfamiliar cannon, so he soon sorted out that problem by himself.

More annoying was that as Jack he had to take a lot of very public abuse and, worse, was not allowed to complain about it. The second day he'd overheard a few of the men whining about how Captain Barbossa was even more difficult to please than usual today and he was about to join in... but when they saw him standing there, they all shut up at once.

He stared. "You expect me to stand up for him," he realized.

One of the men touched his ear, which was half missing. "Not something I'd forget again, sir." He was edging away. "Apologies, Captain Sparrow, we didn't mean nothing by it..."

Barbossa watched them go, amazed. He'd already heard tell that Jack had cut someone's ear off this winter, but Jack had explained it as a haircutting accident.

So that was a strange discovery. A worse one was when they hit a sudden bit of rough sea, nothing too serious but the ship was creaking, and before he could give any orders Jack jumped in. "Take it in a bit, step to," he ordered, pointing to a sail they had made some hasty repairs on recently. He was worried, rightly, that it wouldn't hold up in the wind.

But instead of obeying, the crew turned to their other captain.

Barbossa gaped at all the people watching him for orders. Since when could Captain bloody Sparrow overrule... but he swallowed and didn't give the game away. "Yep, exactly, mates," he said. "Go on, do as he says."

He spent the rest of the day sulking. While it might be true that Jack knew the ship better than he did, he hated the idea that Jack had the authority to veto _any _kind of his orders for _any _reason. He hated the idea that he had never even noticed it was happening.

He was in such a bad mood that he didn't even protest or ask questions when Jack changed their course and abruptly told the crew they were going to Port Royal to pick something up. He didn't even insist on accompanying Jack to shore.

* * *

TBC. 

Now let's not forget to tap on the glass and feed the author. What do you think so far? The next chapter will probly be up sometime in the early weekend.


	4. Will doesn't get much sleep

A/N: Sorry this took so long; I got distracted writing something goofy. My muses are a pain in the butt.

* * *

"Captain?" Elizabeth's voice was high with surprise and delight. "What are you doing here!" She threw her arms around him and squeezed.

Jack laughed. "Good to see you too, missie." He squeezed her back before remembering that that was probably not something Barbossa would do.

But she didn't seem to notice anything was wrong just yet. Jack delivered his rehearsed speech: "I've come to collect."

"Collect?"

"On everything I've ever done for ye." In his experience, the way Barbossa made people do things was with a lot of drama and not much choice. " We're takin a trip, one that's just a small bit more dangerous than skittering off to World's End like we do, and I was thinkin that perhaps you - and Will and your boy, of course - might be useful. So I'm havin ye come." Jack realized his hands were in the air and dropped them abruptly. _Stop gesturing, _he reminded himself. _Act like a troll. Troll, troll, troll._

"Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked, beginning to look at him a little more closely.

Jack just grunted. It seemed like what Barbossa would do.

"Well... for Heaven's sake don't just stand in the doorway," Elizabeth said finally. "Come in. You know I'd go with you at a moment's notice if it were up to me, but I should talk to Will first and see what he says."

Jack _tsk_ed at her. "Inviting strange men into your house while the husband's away," he teased. "Now what _would _people say! We'd best get ourselves inside someplace where nobody'll see, don't you think? ... Perhaps the bedroom?"

She rolled her eyes and let him in. "You get more and more like Jack with every year that passes," she complained.

"Is that such a bad thing?" he asked before he could help himself.

Elizabeth frowned at him. "All right - now what's going on? You're acting really st-" Her voice rose up to a squeak when he took a fast step closer.

He slipped an arm around her. "Lizzie," he began in what was meant to be a reassuring tone, but she pushed him away.

"Lizzie?" she repeated. "Did you just call me _Lizzie_?"

"All right, all _right_, I give up," he hissed. "Yes, I'm not Barbossa, I know I _look _like I am, and I'm not, but just hear me out before you scream."

He told her the whole story, and though she didn't scream, she did find it so unbelievable that she demanded proof. Jack racked his brains. "How about this: when you chained me to the mast you told me you weren't sorry," he remembered, "And I didn't call you a liar."

She thought it over. "Not good enough. That's not really a secret - I've told at least three or four people, the story could have got out."

"You and I once spent that _delightful _evening alone on a desert island..."

"Half of Port Royal knows about that; James complains about it every time he gets drunk-"

"... And you taught me a song..."

"The entire crew knows that song. I helped teach them!"

"Fine," Jack finally sighed, exasperated not to be believed on one of those rare occasions when he actually _was _telling the truth, "You pick a question."

It didn't take her long to think something up - something she'd never told anybody and Jack likely hadn't, either. "That night on the island, then: we toasted. What was our toast?"

His eyebrows disappeared under his hat. "If you think I remember anything beyond the very first run-throughs of that song, you are severely mistaken," he informed her. "I drank myself half to death that night. Out of consideration for _you_, I might add. It was the only way to be sure I wouldn't _defile _you." He purred it at her as if she should find the idea exciting, and she heaved a sigh. It might be someone else's face and voice, but the sentiment was pure Jack.

"All right, I believe you," she said, laughing despite herself. "And I very much appreciate your noble sacrifice. I'm sure it was a terrible hardship for you - you poor thing! - to sit around all night drinking rum."

He relaxed a little. "Pure torture. Now... _Lizzie..._ listen. I may not actually be Captain Barbossa, but everything _else _I said was true."

"You're really asking me to come with you?"

"Not asking, love." Jack went down on his knees with a flourish. "_Begging._" He grinned. "Can you imagine how furious Barbossa'd be if he knew I had him grovelling?" The idea tickled him and he put his forehead all the way to the floor.

Elizabeth sighed. No matter what he looked like, this person was definitely Jack Sparrow.

* * *

Securing Will's cooperation that night was not at all as easy as Elizabeth had expected. He immediately pointed out that Annabelle was five, practically a baby, of no use whatsoever aboard a ship and would be much safer ashore.

"Elizabeth, if your father were alive I would leave Annie in his care and I'd go without a second thought. But you know I can't just go off and leave her with strangers..."

Years ago Elizabeth might have thought of James and Charlotte, but these days the Norrington household wasn't exactly a place that would uplift a young child's spirits. The former Commodore had never really recovered from Jack's hanging; it seemed he had finally reached a level of self-loathing that could not be corrected even by his wife's constant support and affection. Norrington spent the bulk of his days in a miserable monotone, punctuated every few months by record-breaking drinking sprees that lasted for days and left him even more tormented than he'd started.

Since the place was always either a funeral parlor or a madhouse, leaving Annabelle _there _was out of the question. And where else? Elizabeth sighed. "We could bring her."

"No."

"Will, I have to go. First of all they need me. Second... Willie is already down at the ship and I don't think you want him to go alone, do you?"

In the end, Will's reasoning went the way it always did: Elizabeth was going. He could either go protect her, or stay home by himself and just hope it went all right. He put his head in his hands. "Go wake up Annie and pack for her," he said wearily. "But Elizabeth, I don't appreciate your sending Willie without asking me..."

"I didn't, I swear," she told him right away. "I didn't even know til after he was gone. Don't tell me you're surprised at him, Will - he's _your _son."

* * *

"Captain Sparrow?"

Barbossa looked up. "Willie Turner? What are you doing here?"

"Captain Barbossa sent me."

"Did he now." Barbossa got to his feet. So _that _was what Jack had gone to shore for - he'd assumed it was just for purposes of trying to seduce Elizabeth. "And did he tell ye why he wants you?"

Barbossa could hear very dangerous, un-Jack-like undertones creeping into his voice, and sure enough, the boy started to look a little mistrustful. "Err... not really, no," he hedged. "Is something wrong?"

Barbossa hissed in a very big breath and prepared to bark _YES _and rattle off a list of things that were very, very wrong, beginning with his worrying about Jack, continuing on with his discovery that a madman had the power to contradict his orders on his very own ship, and ending with the coup de grace of his actually _becoming _said madman for the last nightmarish few days.

But he could hardly fly off the handle here on deck, could he? "Let's go into the cabin."

Willie backed up a step, shaking his head nervously.

"No? _No_?" Barbossa repeated in disbelief. He got hold of Willie's shirt and, though they were nearly the same height now, dragged him bodily across the deck. "May be a year since y'been here on me ship, boy," he growled, surprised at how deep Jack's voice could go, "But if you've forgotten how important it be to do as I tell you, I'll soon remind ye. _Get in there_." He heaved Willie inside and then banged the door shut behind them. "Now. Ye were askin what's the matter with me?" He was too upset to care that Willie was shrinking against the wall in terror. "Just _look _at me! What do you _think_'s the matter with me! Hmm?!"

"Y-you look the same, sir."

"No!" Barbossa kicked the wall so hard his foot hurt. "I look like _Jack!" _

The captain was entirely beside himself with rage and misery as he poured the story out, but fortunately Willie had plenty of experience coping with him in this state. By midnight when Jack returned to the ship with Will and Elizabeth and their sleeping daughter, Barbossa was calm enough to greet them civilly.

He was even able to keep his mouth shut when Jack declared, seemingly for the express purpose of tormenting him: "Cabin's not big enough for everybody, _Jack_. You can stay out with the kids for now while the three of us get our sleep, and then we can switch later."

It took a covert little pinch from Willie but he managed to shrug and just say, "Your call, mate," allowing Jack and Will and Elizabeth to disappear into the room with the single comfortable bed on the entire ship.

"That's right," Willie approved as soon as they'd gone. "You don't want to set a precedent of Jack picking fights with you. It's not worth it for one measely night. Let me go set Annie someplace where she won't wake up, and then I'll be right back to see to you."

Barbossa was a little surprised - Willie was fifteen or thereabouts, far too old to be cowed into waiting hand and foot on a tyrant. He would have to see about helping the boy discover a little backbone... _after, acourse, he finds me someplace to sleep tonight and fetches me a drink or two._

* * *

Will made a face. "I'm not sleeping next to Jack," he declared at once.

Elizabeth shrugged and went for the wardrobe. "It's about time I got out of this dress. The two of you will be so good as to turn your backs while I change, and then I'll take the middle and we will all go to bed like the mature, responsible people we are." She threw a dirty look at Jack in the mirror - he had turned his back as requested but was watching her anyway - then got into pirate clothes and lay down.

Jack and Will lay on either side of her and they blew out the light. Barely thirty seconds later Elizabeth hissed, "Will! Not now!"

Will cleared his throat and said icily, "I'm not touching you, Elizabeth."

A smacking sound. "Jack!"

"Sorry, sorry... oh, was that _your _leg? I was wondering what that was."

Elizabeth turned on her side to face Will and curled up against him, but a moment later there was a tap on her shoulder. "Lizzie... darling," Jack began delicately. "Not that I have any problem at all with what you're doing, love, but I thought you said you wanted this night to be, ahem, a chaste one."

Elizabeth didn't even turn to look at him. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"If you want me to behave myself, then - much as it pains me to ask - you're going to have to move this." He put his hand directly on the offending area and gave her a little spank. "Shove over."

Elizabeth gasped when she realized how she'd been pressing up on him, but before she could apologize Will beat her to the punch. "That's it," he snapped, sitting bolt upright, "I'm separating you two. And Jack, if you so much as lay a _finger _on me..." He forced his way between them and lay down on his back, stiff as a board, crossing his arms over his chest and staring resolutely up at the ceiling.

Jack waited until the angry huffing subsided into regular breathing and then lapsed into snores. When he was sure the happy couple was sound asleep, he slipped out of bed, rolled Will over to make some room, and lay down in the middle. _There, much better, _he thought as Elizabeth immediately scooted closer to him in her sleep.

An hour later Will woke up to a sight that did not at all please him. Elizabeth was asleep, snuggled up not against him but against a pirate, with her face buried in his neck, her arm resting on his chest (quite indecently, given that his shirt had by accident or design come mostly open during the night), and her leg thrown casually over his.

Said pirate - Will wasn't sure which aspect was more offensive, that he _looked _easily old enough to be her father or that he was _actually _Jack Sparrow in disguise - was not asleep. He had one arm under her head and was quite deliberately stroking her cheek with the other.

Will sat up. "Hey!"

Elizabeth woke at that and sat up too. It didn't take her long to work out her situation. "Jack!" she hissed, rubbing her cheek to get rid of his touch. She tried not to notice how cold she was now that she was no longer cuddling.

"Me?" Jack protested. "I didn't do anything you didn't do first!"

Will's outrage shifted focus. "Elizabeth!"

"Me?" she protested even louder than Jack. "But I thought he was Barbossa!"

Will stared at her. "How is that any better?"

Elizabeth moved her glare from her husband to the pirate lying innocently beside her. "Because _he _would not take something I do in my _sleep _to be an _invitation!_"

"No," Jack drawled in his very best Barbossa-voice, "He'd just wait til ye did it whilst ye were awake."

"Jack!" Will and Elizabeth snapped at the same time, then had to giggle a little.

Will re-organized the bed with himself in the middle again, and they all went back to sleep.

* * *

Barbossa had strange dreams that night, dreams of floating around the _Pearl _like a ghost, and it wasn't until he had come fully awake that he understood: he had his body back.

He was in his bed, his own bed in the captains' cabin... but he was smushed against the wall, pinned in an uncomfortably tight two-armed embrace that was far too strong to possibly be a woman's.

"_Arr_!" He fought himself free with a roar and banged his head against the wall in an effort to escape as quickly as possible. "How dare ye!" Both Will and Elizabeth woke up at the commotion, but before either could get a word in edgewise he continued his tirade: "Jack knowed he wasn't to carry out none of them filthy amusements in _my _body and I'll kill ye for lettin him-"

"Whoa!" Will took him by the shoulders. "Hold it right there, Captain, it is absolutely not what it looks like! I was just trying to keep you - him - _this,_" he explained, shaking him, "... off _her. _That's all, I promise."

A moment of reflection told Barbossa how ridiculous his first assumption had been. Well, chalk it up to the confusion of coming awake in a different body than the one he'd gone to sleep in... or, more likely, to residual madness from being locked up so long inside Jack Sparrow. "I see," he said after a moment, a little wickedly. "And did he get anywhere?"

Elizabeth smirked at him. "Wouldn't you like to know."

* * *

TBC.

Drop me a line!


	5. Annabelle sticks out her tongue

A/N: This is the last talky/goofy type chapter for a bit. After this it will be mainly action/adventure type stuff for a while.

And a quick note as to why my Barbossa seems a bit homophobic: I think that living at close quarters with Jack, who is such a flirt I'm surprised he didn't hit on the Kraken, and who delights in breaching people's personal boundaries whenever he can, would be enough to put _anyone _on his guard. Especially someone as no-touchy as Barbie.

* * *

It took Jack only a few minutes to check his precious body for damage, touch up his makeup, and reacquaint himself with the ability to prance without limping. He uncorked a bottle of rum in celebration and dragged Willie out on deck to help him drink it. They had just found themselves a comfortable spot of deck and sat down, when all of a sudden Barbossa came charging out of the cabin roaring at the top of his lungs. 

Jack looked amused and concerned in equal parts. "Ooh, he's found it."

"Found what?" Willie stood and tried to edge away, but Jack ducked behind him anyhow.

Barbossa took the most direct route towards his victim, despite the fact that it meant marching right through Willie and trampling over him. "This be the last straw, Jack Sparrow!"

"Now, now, come on," Jack said, backing away with his hands out in front of him. The human shield hadn't worked, so he tried to get behind the mast - there was no way Barbossa could walk straight through _that, _at least. "You always say that, remember?"

"This time I mean it!" Barbossa tried to make eye contact but Jack was carefully circling to keep the mast between them, so eventually he gave up and stood still. "_This,_" he wailed, pointing to his shoulder even though Jack couldn't see him, "be _permanent_!"

"So?" Jack challenged without coming out. "So is _this,_ and it's a damn sight deeper and uglier than the one I gave you!" He was pointing to the spot where Barbossa had etched _IDIOT _into his leg.

"Jack." He was almost begging. "I can't walk around like this."

"Sure you can - just don't go taking your shirt off. Or better yet, do, and then tell everyone that- _AAAH!"_

Barbossa had crept around the mast while Jack was busy talking. He pounced and slammed Jack against it with both hands around his neck.

Jack attempted to break his hold, had no success at all, and then gurgled, "Ckkh- glluh- grrkk..."

Willie came up beside them and said timidly, "Captain, I think he's trying to say something."

"What?" Barbossa spat into Jack's face, without loosening his grip.

"Cr- Tchkk- Ett-" Jack was purple and his eyes were rolling back.

"Oh, for God's sake! _What_?" Barbossa let go of him just as his legs were giving out.

Jack wheezed and coughed his way to the ground. "I was merely saying," he said when he could talk again, "That I was sorry, and that in consequence thereof you might consider letting go of me."

Forgiveness was not yet even a remote possibility, and kicking Jack in the guts seemed to be the best way to express this.

"Ow - yeesh!" Jack curled up, covering his face just in case. "Is it really that bad?"

"_Yes!_" This time Barbossa avoided the more tempting target and just stomped on the floor, feeling fiercely proud of how well he was controlling his temper.

Willie stepped in anyhow. "All right, Captain, people are staring," he murmured. It seemed like Barbossa was calming down - he let Jack stand up, at least - so Willie felt reasonably safe asking, "What did he do to you?"

Clapping his hand to his shoulder in a panic, Barbossa snapped "Nothin!" and took a step back.

"Aright, mate, doing _that_ only draws attention." Barbossa dropped his hand, still looking mortified, and Jack couldn't for the life of him keep his mouth shut. "You know, you're lucky I didn't go and write out _I love Jack Sparrow_... I was going to, but it was just too bloody painful. If you check your _other _shoulder, you'll find _I LO-_, which is how far I got before I gave up. In the end," he explained to Willie earnestly, "All I did was carve me damned initials."

"Inside a _heart_!" Barbossa finished furiously.

Jack looked left and right as if for help. "Yes, well, it... it was going to be a circle but it got... deformed? No?" he asked when he saw Barbossa was not at all buying it. "Oh all right, come on, mate, relax! It was a _joke_."

"A joke I've got to wear on me shoulder for the rest of my life!"

"Look, if you don't like it, we can always just carve it out," Jack suggested.

"Oh, rest assured we're goin to." Barbossa's voice dropped ominously. "But we'll be doin it _after _we see Tia Dalma for some more of that cursed potion, so it's you has to sit through the cuttin, and not me."

Jack perked up immediately. "Actually, mate, seeing Tia Dalma again happens to be just exactly what we need right now. Because... hold on..." He scooted around the mast again until he felt safe, then called: "Because you know how I said she'd already given me all the information we need?"

"Aye...?"

"Well, I sort of... err... lied."

"_Arrrr!_"

Jack began to explain, and no matter how he sugarcoated it the news just got worse and worse. "So let me see if I've understood this," Barbossa said at last, having forgotten even the body-art fiasco in light of this new development. "You expect me to hand over Elizabeth to a witch, as payment for some charts which may or may not lead to a place that the witch's second sight says we'll never even reach?"

"_What_!" Elizabeth and Will dropped in on the conversation at exactly the wrong moment.

"Oh, come on," Jack scoffed, "She's not going to _do _anything to you-"

Barbossa snarled at him: "Oh, really? Methought you just finished sayin the witch's turned _jealous_ and-"

"Jealous?"

Jack turned to Elizabeth and reminded her patiently, "Davy Jones spent his last trip ashore attending _your _wedding party, love. He only gets one trip a decade, and he is _supposed _to spend them all kneeling at Tia's feet begging her to take him back. So Tia's a little upset with him right now, and a little jealous, and she wants him to come to her, and she's thinking, perhaps... _brrhht._" He mumbled the last word through a closed mouth.

Elizabeth squinted. "Pardon?"

Jack said it audibly this time, wincing: "Bait."

There was a very loud uproar. Surprisingly, it was Will who got himself under control first and took over. "Jack: go away," he began, "Before somebody kills you. Elizabeth: darling, sit tight and I'm going to sort this out, I promise. Barbossa, I need to know where you st-oh, dear- Annabelle?" She had wandered up into the chaos and it looked like a very noisy crying spell might be on the way. "Annie, sweetheart, Papa's very busy right now, you have to-"

"Papa why are they-"

"You're not helpin none, missie," Barbossa barked, furious at her attempts to distract the one person who was taking useful steps to sort things out. "Disappear!"

Instead of disappearing, Annie started to cry. Barbossa gave her one last chance: he pointed in the direction Jack had gone and ordered, "Go!"

She shook her head, still sobbing. "N-h-no-ohoooo," she wailed. She had picked the two fastest ways to anger him - disobeying and crying - and was doing them both at once.

He took a sharp step towards her, but fortunately Will got between them before anything came of it. "You had best control your creature, Mr. Turner," Barbossa growled loudly enough for everybody to hear, "Or be sure I'll be doin it for you."

Will picked her up and she hid her head in his shoulder, muffling the sobs. "Yes, I understand, she's entirely my responsibility," he agreed. "If Annie gives you trouble for any reason, then please, certainly I'm accountable." He handed her off to Willie, relieved to have placed himself permanently between his daughter and the captain.

_Typical Will Turner,_ Barbossa sneered to himself, but in fact he was grateful - Will's interference saved him from the question of how the devil does one discipline a five-year-old child. "You know the girl be too young for this," Barbossa said, as she tearfully stuck her tongue out at him from over her brother's shoulder. "She's goin to get herself killed."

Although in complete agreement, Will couldn't help fighting with him. "Says who? Willie wasn't much older when-"

"Willie was different."

"Why? Because he introduced himself by taking a shot at you?"

Barbossa was amused despite himself. "A much better introduction than your own, Mr. Turner. As I recall, you were threatenin to shoot _yourself _when first we met."

Will made a face at him, then got down to business. "You know I won't let Elizabeth out of my sight. You are not leaving her with Tia Dalma."

"And how're you plannin on stoppin me? Threatenin to shoot yourself again?" Barbossa dropped his agressive stance and rolled his eyes. "Relax, Turner, we're not leavin Elizabeth."

"You have a plan?"

The pieces had all fallen perfectly into place in the last ten minutes. "Aye. Tia's offered the charts for Elizabeth, but she only wants Elizabeth so she can get to Davy."

"So we bring her Davy instead?" Will guessed.

Aye, that was part of it. The problem was that Davy had it in for them, and Davy was extremely perceptive and extremely cruel. A few days ago Barbossa had caved within seconds to an ugly pirate with a knife... imagine what _Davy Jones _could do if he thought to use Jack as leverage? Barbossa was not at all willing to cross paths with the _Dutchman _until he'd found a way to excise his newfound soft spot. "Aye, we find Davy - but not til after we've paid the Fountain of Youth a visit."

Will looked him over, noticing how bad his limp had gotten and (though it was difficult to see because of all the dirt) how white his hair had become. _I wouldn't pick a fight with Davy Jones in that condition either, _he thought. "Fair enough, Captain. Get us a map, and we'll quest for the Fountain first."

Barbossa knew his powers of persuasion weren't really up to the task and suddenly, for possibly the first time in his life, wished he were Jack. "Glad you agree. Thing is," he hedged carefully, "I don't expect Tia Dalma to be givin us those maps on credit... "

Will frowned. "So what you're saying is, what Tia wants in exchange for the map is something you can only try to get once you already have the map?"

Barbossa chuckled. "Aye, s'about the size of it. But fortunately there be an answer: we give her collateral." _Jack would just say it like he thought it's all right. Cool as anything. Just do it._ He made sure his hand was near his knife just in case, then went for it. "Your daughter, mate."

* * *

TBC. 

Yeah, Will's probly not going to like that. Action, blood n guts n sea travel next chapter. Oh, and to ye who're wonderin about Norrington... he's not disappearin, don't worry. We still need him. Yarrr.


	6. Tia Dalma makes a substitution

A/N: A speck of this chapter was inspired by the "Cruelty to Animals" on Barbie's wanted poster.

Will and Barbie fight for like half a chapter here. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but they just wouldn't play nice.

* * *

Barbossa turned towards the cabin to indicate that the discussion was over, but Will followed him. 

"Excuse me? Captain?" When the door was shut in his face he opened it again. "I think we need to look for another-"

"I don't recall askin you."

Will came inside. "Yes well given that it's _my child," _he reminded coldly,_ "_I think I should have some say-"

"You don't."

"Listen, I'm just-"

Barbossa lashed out fast and backhanded him across the face. "I said shut it!"

The slap echoed in the room and for a minute Will kept his face averted, breathing heavy, resolutely _not _reaching up to touch his cheek.

It was then he noticed that Willie had followed him in, still holding Annabelle. This new development had made her stop crying entirely. Now she was simply watching, with very wide eyes.

Enough was enough. Will turned on the captain, grabbed him by the coat, and slammed him into the wall. It was so unexpected that Barbossa didn't even fight back, but just stared as Will leaned very close and hissed, "Now you listen. How many times have you raked me over the coals for disrespecting you in front of your crew? And I understood, and I took it, and I didn't say a word." Their eyes were still locked and Will said it all without hesitating: "This is _my family._ I am their father. If you abuse me in front of them, Captain, I will fight back." He paused. His breathing was harsh but his voice still low. "Do you understand?"

After Barbossa broke off the staring match with a quick glance towards the children, Will let go of him. "Aye. Understood." He pulled his coat down from where the violence had hitched it up. "We _will _be leavin the girl like I said, Will. But you're understood." He turned and left the room.

Next Will turned to his son. "I can see what you're thinking, and if you say _he's going to kill you,_ then his won't be the only throat I'm jumping down today. Is that clear?"

Willie nodded and waited til he was gone to say, "You know what, Annie? Captain's going to kill him."

* * *

Will felt a sense of triumph for about ten minutes. After that, as his anger faded, he started getting a little antsy - replaying the scene in his head, wincing every time, then looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows... 

When he couldn't take it any more, he climbed the stairs to the wheel. He thought it a bad sign that the captain didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence by looking at him. "You're going to kill me for that, aren't you."

Barbossa's mouth curved into a smile. "No, I don't think so," he drawled. "We've been through so much, I figure by now y'be within your rights to brawl with me if you like. Sides… what you said… there's probly somethin to it."

There was a long silence while Will tried to wrap his mind round the idea: "Are you… _apologizing _to me?"

"Aye, looks like it." He shrugged and finally made eye contact. "I ride ye a little hard sometimes, Will, I know that. I spose I could try and ease up... providin you're able to mind your manners anyhow."

Having expected a brutal verbal and physical beatdown, Will couldn't pick his jaw up off the floor enough to answer.

"For example," Barbossa continued, "There's to be no more questionin of me orders. I shouldn't even have to explain 'em to you, but considerin it's your _child_, and this trip's for me and Jack rather'n you, then just this once I'll make ye an exception."

He took a breath and in that second Will put it together. "You think it will be safer for Annie there than here. You need me and Elizabeth, but you don't need to risk Annie too."

_I think she's a useless distraction that'll only cause us trouble by gettin killed, but praps your way of sayin it is nicer._ "Aye. Don't you worry about her. I figure she and Tia will get along - and if not, there's always a sleepin potion."

Will thought there were few places on earth less safe than the _Pearl_. Annabelle would almost certainly be better off staying on dry land... on the other hand, could he actually bear to let her out of his sight... not to mention what _she _would think... "How can I explain this? All she will see is that I'm leaving her - she'll never understand..."

"In time she will." Barbossa knew the location of all Will's buttons and exactly how to push them. He stepped around and touched the whip scars on Will's back. "Didn't you?" Will was quiet for a long time. "Thought so. Now are you through bein difficult?"

After another few moments of thought Will nodded. "All right. And I suppose I also should apologize - I shouldn't have lost my temper with you."

"Hah – d'you think it surprised me?" Realizing that perhaps he hadn't given so much ground after all, Barbossa smiled. "You've ne'er been exactly known for your good sense and restraint, now, have ye."

Will sighed. "So... how many more years of the think-before-you-speak lecture do you figure I can look forward to after today?"

"Depends. How long're you plannin on living?"

* * *

So it happened that Annabelle Turner was brought to Tia Dalma's shack. She cried the whole way there, which broke Will's heart... but when they arrived, she and Tia took an immediate, unnatural liking to each other and Will thought he might rather have had the broken heart. He winced when his daughter put on a leather bracelet that looked suspiciously like it might be made of human skin, and groaned aloud when Annie pointed to the decorations on Tia's cheeks and asked whether they hurt. 

Jack looked a little uneasy, but Barbossa just sneered "I told you so," shooed Will out of the cabin, and held out his hand for Tia's part of the deal.

But she was smiling in a way that was only about half friendly. Instead of handing over a map, she gave him a piece of string that wound around the legs of her table and eventually disappeared up into the attic. By the way it was moving, he knew the other end was tethered to something alive. "What foolishness be this?" She didn't answer, so he unraveled the leash as far as he could and yanked on it to see what form his prize had taken.

There was a crash and a shrill shrieking noise, and Barbossa had one moment of hope that Tia Dalma had found him his pet monkey back. He jerked again and the animal came tumbling down the stairs.

No monkey. "A _bird? _What's in your head, Tia? Why a bird?" Remembering what happened the last time he offended her, Barbossa struggled to keep his tone civil. "That was not our bargain."

"An' nor was dis child," she reminded him. "Fair's fair, Hector. If you make de change, so can I. De bird lead you to where yar goin. Cut him loose an' he show you de way."

When neither growls nor entreaties changed her mind, Barbossa snarled a bad-tempered farewell, grabbed their guide by the neck, and dragged it outside.

The boat ride back downriver was miserable. The bird (Barbossa correctly identified it as a peacock; Jack insisted it was a new and magical species decorated by the wandering eyes of Tia's unfaithful lovers) squawked continuously, until everyone had a headache. Finally Barbossa lost patience with it and squeezed it until it ran out of air to squawk with. Jack chided, "That's not very nice," and so Barbossa left off choking the bird in favor of choking _him_, which led to a half-serious fistfight right there in the rowboat while Will struggled to keep it from capsizing.

Once they reached the _Pearl _and explained the situation to Elizabeth, the first words out of her mouth were, "You said day _and _night? It flies at night? How are we supposed to follow it when we can't see it?"

Jack and Barbossa both mouthed stupidly for a moment, and Jack recovered first. "It probably...err... glows in the dark, or something," he said hopefully. "It'll be _fine._" He cut the leash and they all watched the enormous bird take off. "And away we go! Quick, gentlemen: follow that bird!"

That night, they discovered that Jack had guessed correctly: the bird shone far brighter than any lighthouse and could be seen even through mist and fog. Jack was so smug about it that Barbossa threw him out of the cabin entirely, and gave his spot on the floor, including the pillow, to Willie instead.

That all was bad enough, but the next day, things went even _less_ smoothly: they saw sails on the horizon. Jack got hold of the spyglass first. "Very in-ter-est-ing," he drawled. Because he now knew firsthand that he had the better eyesight, he described the ship rather than offering his partner a look. "It's a ship what flies a flag what's decorated with, among other things... a skull. Wearing a crown." Barbossa's eyes widened just a hair and Jack grinned at him. "Yep, it's our little friend from Tortuga, mate. It's bloody Prince himself. This should be good, eh?"

"If by _good _you mean _not happenin," _Barbossa growled,"Then sure. Because we're not fightin that ship right now; we're dodgin straight around and continuin on. If we lose this cursed bird we got no idea at all where we're goin. And _no,_" he added loudly, cutting Jack off before he'd gotten half a word out, "Gettin lost is not _half the fun_, or _the whole point_, or whatever foolishness ye were about to insult me ears with."

* * *

TBC... 


	7. Prince wears red

A/N: Captain Gabz - damn straight! Think how pissed Will would be if - after his first kid worships a pirate, and not just any pirate but the particular one Will can't stand - his baby girl turns into a little sorceress with feathers in her hair! Tee hee. Why do I make life so difficult for poor Will?

* * *

"In fact... perhaps I have a better idea." Barbossa strode over to the wheel and stood up to his full height. "Full sail, gents! Leave the guns where they are!" He turned to Jack and explained, a little more quietly: "We're going to ram him." 

Jack did a double-take nearly powerful enough to knock him over. "_What_!"

Barbossa reached out and ruffled his hair. "Jaaaack." Jack was still too horrified to speak. "Live a little."

"L-? N- but, err... but I, this, this is the sort of thing _I_ would usually propose while _you _tell me it makes no sense!" Jack sputtered. "We can't _ram_ a ship! Not in the _Pearl__ - _we'll hurt her!"

"Have y'ever actually rammed a ship, Jack?" Barbossa was radiating a serene happiness that made Jack want to dump a bucket of water over his head to wake him up. "I have. Every captain ought to. It ruins the ship, both of 'em... gives you a new respect for your vessel and-"

"Are you insane?" Jack took him by the shoulders and stared into his face. "Hello?" Barbossa smiled blankly and paid him no mind. "All right, stay here, stay right here, I'm getting help!" He rushed off in a frenzy to fetch Willie and his mother, in the hopes that they could decode the bizarre behavior better than he could.

He was so disturbed that he couldn't make them understand right away. "Help - it's Barbossa. He's, I don't know, senile, crazy, it's- everything upstairs has suddenly turned into, you know, jelly - something - you have to help me!"

They all hurried outside, but when they got to the top of the stairs they found Barbossa looking normal, if a little annoyed. "How d'you do it, Jack?" he asked. The curiosity sounded genuine.

"Do what?"

"Propose somethin you know be ridiculous, and defend it as if y'thought it was a good idea? I couldn't do it beyond ten seconds."

Jack was so relieved he had to sit down. "You're not crazy. You're just... thinking like me."

"Or," Elizabeth put in, "In other words, crazy."

Jack didn't argue.

"I figure Prince reminds me of me," Barbossa explained, "And in his place, I'd never allow me ship to be rammed. If somebody mad as Jack were bearin down to smash into me, I'd probably tack off and let 'em pass. Pride's important, but Prince'll know it's not worth his ship."

Willie nodded. "You think this Prince character isn't a madman... but you think he thinks you are."

"I think he thinks _Jack _is," Barbossa corrected, "And that I'd be willin to listen to Jack."

"Are you?" Jack asked.

"Am I what? Crazy, or willin to listen to you?"

A second later they all bit down on some variation of "same thing, isn't it?" and then, noticing that they'd all had the exact same thought, started laughing.

When Will came over and saw the four of them standing around the wheel in stitches while the _Pearl_sped on a collision course to another ship, he thought they had _all _gone crazy.

* * *

Prince held his ground longer than Barbossa had expected, but the _Pearl_stuck to her course and at the last second Prince's ship veered off to avoid disaster. 

It was actually a very near miss. Barbossa wrestled with the wheel and swore and in the end closed his eyes for the critical second because he couldn't bear to watch.

Jack stood by the railing, holding up a bottle to toast Prince as they went past. He thought he would try and be mature enough not to climb up on a crate and bend over and flash them his ass... but he couldn't resist getting Willie to do it for him.

Jack had seen a lot of very angry pirates over the course of his career, but this one had to take the cake.

He was just about to laugh at him some more, when suddenly a grappling hook whizzed by his head and he had to duck.

"All right that was uncalled-" Jack shut up when he realized that dozens of hooks were sailing over, catching on the rail and rigging and all sorts of very important bits of his ship. "No! Ohnono! Damage!" He waved his arms frantically. "Oy! Barbossa! Starboard, hurry up!"

"On it, Jack," Barbossa called back. He tried to match the direction Prince's ship had taken, so as not to let the hooks yank out and chew the _Pearl_up. Meanwhile Jack had the crew trying to cut the ship free and also running out the guns, just in case. Some of the grappling hooks were on chain rather than rope, which was a little more trouble, but soon they had removed enough of them that the sails were no longer in danger of being torn up or torn down.

The pirates fired guns at each other from their respective ships, but nobody seemed quite eager to board and start up a huge melee. Finally Jack showed a white flag, and Prince ordered his men to hold fire straightaway. "Fancy meeting you here!" Jack hollered across.

Prince said something quietly, and the pirate next to him bellowed, "Our captain says he will not shout like a fishwife!"

"S'alright! No fisherman would marry him anyway - he's far too ugly!"

"Jack." Barbossa nudged him from behind. "I don't think that'll be helpin any."

"Oh, come on, mate, it's just a little bit of friendly-" A shot rang out, aimed up at the sky, and Jack got the message. "-Or maybe not so friendly chatter. All right, we'll ask him over to talk."

While Jack screamed the parlay invitation across the water, Barbossa swept over the ship making sure that it was presentable. "Look alive, gents, and look sober even if you aren't. You - fix that hat. We got company comin."

Jack followed him, helping make minor adjustments to the ship and crew. "Hey - stop that!" he snapped at one pirate who was exceptionally drunk even by Jack Sparrow's standards. "That's not the privy; we drink out of there."

Just before Prince came aboard Barbossa called Elizabeth to him and told her, "You and your Williams can stay if you like, but mind you don't catch his attention if you can help it. He's trouble."

"Worse than you or Davy or all the other pirates I know?" Elizabeth murmured, rolling her eyes. "Captain, please."

Negotiations went surprisingly smoothly at first. Barbossa offered the World's End charts and named a price, an exorbitant one, and after a lot of hard eye contact Prince agreed to it. "And we'll be wantin the gold up front," Barbossa added. "And it's to be ordinary gold, not cursed nor poisoned nor anythin else unpleasant. Meet us in Tortuga, two months from now so's you have time to scrape the treasure together. You'll have the charts once you've paid up. Agreed?"

Prince shook on it, then couldn't hold back any longer. "You two 'ave so little competence zat I am embarrassed for you," he sneered. "You agreed to a parlay wiz an inferior ship - worse, wiz a captain 'oo is wounded so badly 'e is _zis _close to unconscious..."

"Wounded?" Jack stepped forward and passed his hands briefly over Prince's torso. Someone had apparently shot him in the side - his expensive-looking maroon silk shirt was soaked through and stuck to his skin with blood. "Ah, I see. Sorry, mate, didn't notice, what with the, you know, _red _and all." He dusted an imaginary speck of dust from Prince's shoulder. "Which is quite fetching, actually, I-"

"I do not wear red to attract imbeciles."

"To attract bulls, then? To better match your surroundings when you wind up in Hell?"

"I wear red to conceal injuries from ze simple-minded," he said haughtily. "_Evidemment_ it works. It is because if my men saw zat I had been 'urt, zey might panic in z'battle."

Jack laughed. "Oh, come on, you're not _serious_!" he scoffed. No answer. "Really? I always thought that was a _joke_."

"A joke?" Willie murmured from beside him, looking towards Elizabeth for an explanation.

Jack grinned. "Aye, a joke. Goes like this. Once, there was a pirate captain. Say, for example, him." He made a complicated swirling gesture to indicate their visitor. "And this captain always wore a red shirt to fight in. Before every battle he says, _bring me ze red shirt_, and the crew brings him ze red shirt, and everything's fine. And the reason he does it is, you know, what he just told us. That he doesn't want the men to worry if he starts bleeding on himself. Anyhow." Getting to the dramatic part now, Jack lowered his voice and stepped closer. "One day, he looks in the spyglass and sees, not just _any _ship... but the _Black_ _Pearl_ And his men say, _should we bring you the red shirt now, cap'n? _And he looks at the _Pearl_and he says..." Jack paused and then delivered the punchline in his very best fake accent: "_Forget ze red shirt - just bring me my brown pants!_"

Willie snorted with laughter and Elizabeth protested, "Jack, that's disgusting," and although it took Prince a few seconds to work out just what the insult meant, once he got it his reaction was the most satisfying by far. When they finally detached his hands from around Jack's throat, the first words out of Jack's mouth were, "You know, Barbossa, you're right - he _does _remind me of you."

After a lot of growly threatening on both sides, they packed Prince back off to his ship and looked skywards. "Don't tell me," Jack said glumly, "We've lost the bird."

"Aye, it'd be too easy if the damn thing waited for us." Barbossa shook his head. "Why, Jack? I thought Tia was your friend!"

"She was." Jack bit his lip. "_Was. _Anyway, just give me a minute, I'll think of something."

Everyone around him tried not to wince.

* * *

TBC. 

Sorry this was so short; there's no logical breaking point for a bit. The next one's well underway though, and should be up soonish.


	8. Will throws a sword

For once, Jack's plan sounded reasonable to everyone. He wanted to find an island with a big mountain, climb it, and then watch for their guide's glow at night. Considering they happened to be near such an island at the moment, and considering there was a storm on the horizon whose look Barbossa did not at all like, it seemed like a good idea to head that way as quickly as possible.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when they got there. It should have been warm and sunny. Instead, though the sun was still out, the wind had turned brisk and chilly and everyone was getting a bad feeling about it. Barbossa squinted up at the island. "And who's to climb that?"

"Me," Jack said easily, "Of course. You don't expect any of _them _to do it?" He nodded towards the crew, most of whom sat picking their teeth or noses with daggers and burping contentedly.

"You're not goin alone."

Willie was already tying back his hair. "I'll go. I climb things all the time."

"Good idea," Jack said. "Not that I think _any _of you people would _ever _propose sailing off and leaving me to die, but I think that, you know, should anything go wrong requiring a rescue... I'd prefer to have the boy with me. Not, shall we say, as _leverage, _but simply... just in case."

"Nobody's going to need to _rescue _us, Captain," Willie scoffed.

Elizabeth made a face. "If that's how you feel then I think I should go along too, to keep an eye on you. Otherwise the next thing we know Jack will be coming back down the mountain alone because you decided to do something stupid and heroic..."

Jack slung an arm around her shoulders. "No heroes here, love, eh?"

"As well you should remember." She shrugged him off. "So... agreed?"

Will swallowed hard. "Elizabeth. Not that I'd ever be mistrustful of pirates, but I think I should stay here to make absolutely sure the ship doesn't leave until you and Willie are on it. Do not take _any _chances while you're up there..."

"Nothing is going to happen to Mother," Willie told him firmly. "I promise."

Jack's goodbye was much easier. "Now, mind you don't leave or smash up my ship on the rocks," he told Barbossa, "No matter how bad the weather gets."

"_My _ship be perfectly safe," Barbossa assured. "Probably better off without you than with. Now hurry up."

* * *

Once his wife and son had disappeared on an adventure out of his sight, Will desperately needed to find something else to worry about, or he would go crazy. 

He tapped Barbossa on the shoulder and asked, "Did you divide us from them just so you could do something awful to me without Elizabeth interfering?"

"Settin aside the fact that the separation be Elizabeth's idea and not mine, I'll say aye - I'm so upset with ye for shoutin at me that I'm plannin on killin ya. In fact," he added with a smile that made Will wonder whether he was joking or not, "It's to be a death so unspeakable that we're doin it on land, because otherwise your tormented ghost'll be hauntin the _Pearl _for all eternity, and of course we don't want that." Will still wasn't sure he wasn't serious, and his uneasiness got worse when the captain turned to some of the people lounging around on deck and ordered them, "Drop the anchor and then lower a couple of boats - we're all goin ashore."

Will forbid himself to ask questions, and attempted to look nonchalant as the pirates obeyed. He felt much relieved when Barbossa told the pirates to go raid the island for water and food and anything else they might want, as it was doubtful the _Pearl _would be stopping again for quite some time. _See, _Will told himself, _THAT'S why we're ashore_. He felt even better when, once the crew had disappeared, Barbossa enlisted his help in hiding the oars "so's nobody takes it into their head to leave us."

_Us,_ he said. Will felt good. Everything was fine.

Or so he thought until Barbossa led him cheerfully into the woods well out of earshot of the others and drew his sword.

* * *

Jack, Willie, and Elizabeth found that the climb up was actually pretty easy. As they got higher they found that the island had some craggy and rocky bits, but on the whole the way up was bearable enough not to distract Jack from his attempts to flirt.

Oddly enough, despite a whole afternoon of his best efforts, Elizabeth had yet to slap him. He supposed it meant either he was losing his touch for effrontery, or else she really didn't feel like being teased.

"Lizzie," he began, yet again, when Willie disappeared up ahead to peek over some rocks, "I don't think I've told you this yet today, but... you're looking... well."

"Thank you. Though I'm only saying that to be polite."

He put a hand over his heart. "You wound me. Lizzie, really, what's the matter? Pray tell me how I have offended thee, and-"

"How?" she repeated with annoyance that was only half pretend. "By making advances on every single female who crosses your path, that's how!" Actually, it was one _specific _female she was thinking of. The way he had kissed Tia Dalma goodbye had been a good deal more than friendly, and for some reason (which Elizabeth refused to name as jealousy), she didn't like it.

But Jack seemed oblivious to what was bothering her. "Not true," he protested. "Not _every _female. I did not make adavnces on your daughter! So there."

Finally Elizabeth had to crack a smile. "Annie is _five,_" she protested, glad to talk about anything other than women and advances with Jack Sparrow. "Although, truth be told, five or not she's already a bigger lady than I am; she never gets her hands dirty or-"

"Hey! Mother!" Willie was waving for them to come closer. "Look, I think we're there!"

Elizabeth hurried ahead, glad to have an excuse not to talk to Jack just now until she had sorted her feelings out.

* * *

It didn't occur to Will to wonder how his wife was faring alone with Captain Sparrow. He had bigger problems: he was staring at the wrong end of Captain Barbossa's cutlass, backed up against a tree and wishing very fervently that he had held his tongue the other day. 

But before he could work out what to say, Barbossa tossed the sword up in the air and caught it by the blade. "Here," he said, poking Will with the hilt. "Throw."

Will took it, looking confused. "Throw?"

Barbossa pretended not to notice how badly he had scared him. "Y'know, that way you do. I can throw knives and make 'em stick in things," he explained, "But this sword just don't cooperate. I'm thinkin perhaps it be weighted funny. You try."

"Oh... err, all right. Here." He hefted the cutlass and then pitched it. It went end-over-end a few times and buried itself into a tree trunk.

Barbossa went and fetched it, looking irritated. "Again."

Will did it again. "It throws fine. You try."

Barbossa aimed right and put his whole shoulder into it properly and followed through, but the sword clanked against the tree instead of sticking by the point. Will frowned and went to pick it up. "Try again," he called across the clearing. He hurled the sword back over, sinking it into a tree so close to the captain's cheek that he could have licked it.

Barbossa didn't flinch - although he _did _roll his eyes afterwards at the unnecessary showin off. He jiggled the cutlass free and heaved it again. "Lands about one in four. If that," he confessed as it clattered to the ground.

There was no point suggesting to just keep trying - this was the man who had drilled Elizabeth and Willie on each new pirate skill until they could do it in their sleep; he clearly believed that practice made perfect and probably had worked on this trick for hours at a time. He must be making some mistake.

On the next throw Will saw, and he hurried to explain before he could feel awkward about correcting his captain. "There - it's your grip. You're holding it as you would to fight, but watch-" He drew his own. "It should be like this to fight... and then like _this _for throwing... even lower... Right. Now try."

The throw went wild, not even close to the tree, but Barbossa did not seem discouraged. "Aye, makes a difference. Give it back here."

Half an hour later, they were still in the clearing, standing on opposite sides hurling Barbossa's cutlass back and forth. Barbossa stood calmly while Will's throws splintered wood inches from his face, and other than sidestepping the captain's occassional (and, Will was sure, unintentional) wild misses, Will didn't didn't do much flinching either.

"It's much better," Will agreed. "You're hitting almost all of them. Now I'm stopping - I'm getting too old for this." He rotated his shoulder slowly and stretched his arm.

Barbossa came over and sneered, "Puppy," and pointedly did _not _stretch out his own arm, which, incidentally, felt like he might never be able to lift it again. Still, he was not feeling quite so competitve that he neglected to thank Will for the lesson before moving on to the moral of the story. "Much appreciated, Turner. Now. Afore we go back, you should notice somethin:" He stepped up and suddenly put the point of his weapon under Will's chin. Will gasped as it dug in and tilted his head back, eyes squeezed shut as if he expected to be executed right there. "We just had... oh, say, perhaps a hundred chances to 'accidentally' put a sword through each other's eye, and neither of us did it. _Stop worryin_." He put his blade away and turned to go back through the woods to the ship.

Will followed him. "Err... Captain?"

From the tone, Barbossa predicted that Will was about to begin with _I still don't like you but _and then stumble through some girly utterance that would end up making them both uncomfortable. He stopped in his tracks so suddenly that Will slammed into him from behind. "Remember what comes before speakin," he suggested without turning around.

"I... you're right, never mind."

"Good." Barbossa started walking again, chuckling, "I think things betwixt you and me be awkward enough already."

More than once over the years, Will had awoken to find his wife clutching a ratty old pillow and mumbling something in her sleep that was definitely not _Will_. He shook his head. "I'll say."

* * *

Once it got dark, a few minutes of patient scanning with the spyglass told Jack which way they were supposed to be going. He predicted that the _Pearl _could probably catch up to "that loud and unbearably creepy overgrown fly" within a day or two, and, feeling much better, they settled down to sleep. 

They hadn't been asleep long when the weather turned foul. Rain started to pour down on their heads and Elizabeth commandeered Jack's hat. "We can't stay out here," she shouted over the whistling wind.

"Come on, we agreed it's too dangerous to go down at night," Willie argued through chattering teeth, "And we promised Father we'd be careful."

"We should go." Now that he'd lost his hat his makeup was a mess, and Jack was annoyed. "We can make it. It'll probably be a little slippery though, so be careful."

"How does one _be careful _when one can't even see?" Willie yelled.

"Easy! The exact same way a blind man is careful all the time!" Jack started to mince his way slowly to the path that had led them up.

"And how-" Realizing it would be pointless to ask, Willie shut up and just followed.

It went all right at first as they picked their way down the rocky mountaintop, but when they started to reach where the dirt and plants were things got more tricky. What had been the safe way up had turned completely into mud, even more dangerous to climb over than bare rock. "We can't go back this way," Jack declared after the second time he slipped.

Elizabeth waited for a burst of lightning before trying to glare. "You want to look for a new path when we can't even see?"

They argued the merits of certain death versus possible death, and finally went the way Jack's instinct led them.

Unfortunately Jack's instinct led them to what seemed to be the edge of a cliff. When the lightning flashed they could see land on the other side... just out of jumping distance.

"Wonderful! Perfect!" Elizabeth raged. "Now do you want to try climbing _back _up a mudslide?"

"No," Jack answered a little sulkily, "And I also don't want to stay here, because as I'm sure you can feel, the ground is eroding under our feet and if we stand here all night we'll slip right down over the edge. If I had to guess, given our luck I'd say it's probably a very long drop with some very sharp rocks at the bottom. Now what do you have to say about _that_?"

Willie squinted across the gap. "I might be able to jump it."

"Oh, right," Jack snapped, "Let's sacrifice _you _to see if it's jumpable. I'm sure I'll have great fun explaining it to your father."

They all passed over the question of whether or not _jumpable _was a word. "Oh, and you want to use _you_?" Willie snapped right back. "That'll go over spectacular with Captain Barbossa, won't it? I've always wanted to see what it's like to have his knife in my guts. Maybe I'll get to find out what my intestines actually look like."

"Not another word!" Elizabeth shrieked over the wind. "There's no point sacrificing anybody - I can tell you both for certain that _I _could never make that jump. We'll have to look for another way."

At that moment the lightning struck again, illuminating Jack's face. He was wearing an expression both Turners recognized. "Oh, no," they moaned at the same time.

Jack's hands came up. "Just hear me out, mates..."

* * *

A few minutes later Elizabeth stood on the rainy cliff between Jack and Willie, clutching their hands and trying not to faint. "This will never work." 

"_Almost _never," Jack corrected cheerfully, "Which is fine really, since we only need it to work once. Afterwards Willie and me'll find our own way across. Ready?"

"Oh, God..."

"Eyes open, love. All right, ready? Go!"

* * *

TBC.

Haha sorry for the bit of cliffhanger! What do you think so far?


	9. Jack lies about mudwrestling

A/N: It's about time I thanked you guys for being so good about reviewing. I really appreciate it and it gets me psyched to update faster. BTW, no I did not notice the "cliffhanger" pun at first, and am now smacking myself in the head :o)

Enjoy!

* * *

When Jack said "Go," he and Willie started running full speed towards the cliff. Elizabeth gave them a second's head start and then ran too, still hanging onto their hands. 

When they reached the very edge Jack and Willie stopped short and swung her forward with all their momentum, shooting her out into the air like a sling shot.

She screamed the whole way across but landed safe in the mud, skidding and tumbling to a stop with several feet between her and the edge. "All right," she shouted across when she finally felt secure in her seat. "I made it!"

"Thank goodness for that," Jack muttered to Willie. "Can't imagine what they would have done to us - your father _and _Barbossa. Now, you next. Let's try... this way?" He knelt down and cupped his hands on the ground.

Willie got a running start and on his last step landed on Jack's hands. He vaulted off for the jump aided by the best push Jack could manage, and still just barely crossed the gap.

He landed on his face and had to scramble for a grip against the slippery wet ground, but with Elizabeth's help he steadied himself and finally dared to stand. He looked back over at Jack. "All right... your turn!"

Jack was hesitating.

"Jack, come on!" Elizabeth shouted to him. "You can do it! I promise! We're right here, we've got you!" She and Willie edged as close as they dared and leaned forward, arms outstretched. "Willie, this is never going to work," she muttered out the side of her mouth.

"I know," he answered steadily. He continued beckoning for Jack to jump.

"We might slip. Get ready to drop him."

"I am."

"Oh God here he comes..."

Jack got a running start and leaped out over the crevasse. He came very close to landing on solid ground, but as they had all expected, couldn't quite make it. He flailed around at the wet dirt on the edge of the cliff, trying to get a handhold as it crumbled, and managed to snag Elizabeth's ankle.

She fell and started trying to kick free and scoot backwards - the mud she was sitting on was dripping away right beneath her and she was sliding down towards the drop. "Willie! Help me! Get back!"

She was screaming contradicting instructions to him and, surprising no one, he opted to help rather than escape. He sat down on the ground behind her, dug his heels into the mud, and reached under her arms and tried to pull her backwards.

"Too- heavy-" he grunted. He shifted a little to try for more stability. "Captain, it's too heavy! Come on - you're pulling her! I'm slipping - _I'm slipping!_"

"Then... stop... her bloody... kicking!" Jack shouted up at him.

Elizabeth squirmed a little but found no purchase at all with her hands or feet - if Willie let go of her now, she and Jack would go flying right over the edge. As it was they were sliding down slowly, and the ground was melting away in the rain faster and faster...

"Jack, he's right," she said. "Please..." She felt mistreated, angry, almost betrayed. It wasn't fair of Jack to depend on her! He was supposed to be so good at cheating death - not dragging other people down into it!

Jack couldn't make out the words over the wind, but he knew exactly what she was saying. "Cmon, don't be like that," he answered quietly, knowing she couldn't hear his words either. He was hugging her calf with both arms, trying to pull his knees up under him. "We'll figure something-"

At that moment Willie's foothold slipped, and he crashed into Elizabeth's back and she fell forwards. As they skidded down the last few feet to the drop, Jack let go of his death-grip on her leg and went for the only possible anchor in reach - the bone he kept in his hair. He jammed it deep into the wet dirt with one hand, caught Elizabeth's wrist with the other, and held his breath to see if they would go over or not.

There was a great jerk as she stopped, dangling over the abyss and kicking her feet uselessly. Screaming her head off, too, as if that would help.

Jack was lying flat in the mud, oozing slowly downwards, and he knew they wouldn't last long. "Lizzie! Knife! Now!" He shouted at her. "Do it or I'll drop you!"

Finally his orders got through to her, and she pulled her knife out with her free hand and held it up.

In order to procure a free hand of his own, Jack let go his hold on the reindeer bone. He yelped with pain at the sudden brutal yank on his hair, and then even louder when he actually grabbed the knife by the blade.

But he swung his arm up and sank the knife in to the hilt, as far up and to the side as he could reach. Maybe if they distributed their weight a little better they would be able to climb up-...

"Jack, I'm slipping!" she cried.

There was nothing playful or teasing in his tone when he looked down at her and growled, "Bet you don't want me to let go _now, _do you?"

She had his wrist squeezed in both her hands. "Jack, please..." She was crying far too hard to be of any use whatsoever, and for that reason alone he knew he had to comfort her.

Not to mention how his guts were twisting with the way she looked at him. "All right, darling, it's all right," he soothed over the driving rain. "Come on - of course I'm not letting go. Lizzie. I've got you."

She was sobbing with relief and saying something - it looked like _thank you_ - but he knew their prospects were not great whether he held on or not. Jack was afraid to shift even the slightest bit, and even if his arms did not give out soon the anchors certainly would. In a flash of lightning he looked around for Willie and found him with his own problems: struggling to crawl towards safety without sending any more mudslides down onto the people a few feet even nearer to death than he was.

"Stop moving!" Jack shouted.

"The ground's not staying put!" he shouted back. "If I don't move soon I'll be washed right over!"

"You're telling me! Look, we need another knife. Have you got one?"

Elizabeth pinched Jack's arm to get his attention. "Don't let him come down here!"

_Right,_ Jack thought grimly,_ Because then there'd be two of you for me to haul up, instead of one. _"Toss it here, son, and get you gone."

"But Mother-"

"I've got her. We're fine here." Jack figured it was the perfect time to lie - if they survived then the lie went undetected, and if it turned out he _didn't _have her and they fell to their deaths... well, in that case he _still_ wouldn't have to sit through a lecture about telling the truth, would he.

Willie tossed the knife down and Jack realized he needed his other hand to pick it up. With some difficulty he convinced Elizabeth to let go of his wrist and hang onto his legs instead so that he could try to climb.

Twenty harrowing minutes later, they had progressed the few feet necessary to get Elizabeth back on the not-quite-solid ground. She crawled up in Jack's wake, holding onto his sash more for reassurance than anything else, as they slowly made their way up out of the danger of the sliding mud. He was bleeding from both hands due to careless handling of the daggers, from his scalp as a result of the use he had made of his dreadlocks, and from the lip where Elizabeth had kicked him before she fell.

Not to mention the mess he had made of his shoulder trying to hang onto her. When they got to a place with solid ground underfoot and a tree to shelter them from the rain, Jack tried moving and discovered that it required several rotations and two painful _pop_s before he could even put his face in his hands.

Elizabeth sat down beside him, still crying. "I'd forgotten how awful this feels," she murmured as she dabbed at his lip with her muddy sleeve, and then gave it a kiss. "I can't believe... Jack, why didn't you let me fall?" She scooted behind him and rubbed his shoulders, fiercely.

He shrugged. "Meant to, but forgot," he invented wearily. "Don't you worry, I'll get it right next time. Besides," he added, looking up to smile at her, "I suppose after all it's a good thing, because Barbossa would have my head if you didn't come back. How about this: give us a hug and we'll call it even, all right?"

She squeezed him so tight he thought she might end up killing him after all.

Through all this Willie sat nursing his own scrapes and bruises without interfering. He was impressed beyond measure by Captain Sparrow's performance, and though he knew that a thank-you and probably an apology was in order, felt just a little too intimidated to deliver it as yet.

Jack, for his part, after one wry thought about adding this incident to the list of times people had tried to kill him, stopped thinking at all. As soon as Elizabeth had calmed down a little he curled up in her lap and fell straight into an exhausted stupor, lulled by the sound of the rain and the rocking of her body as she cried.

* * *

Tia Dalma had spent the day cleaning house. She sat at the table holding jars up to the light one by one, trying with "help" from her guest to remember what was in each. 

"Eyeballs!" Annie declared cheerfully.

"Aye, what kind?" Tia frowned and shook the bottle a little.

"Not person ones," Annie decided, picking at a stain on the table. "Person ones are in your head not a bottle, and they're not that bad color, and they're not on a string either. Can I play with _those_?"

Tia grinned - the girl was pointing to her collection of shrunken heads. "Why not." She set aside the jar of (human) eyeballs, fetched Annie a couple of the heads, and got back to work.

Tia had a feeling that her days in this bizarre cottage were numbered. Was she going to die? Move? Trade in this hideous human body for something a little more appropriate to her station? She didn't know, but in any case it would not do to be unprepared and leave her lair a shambles. She opened up a little box of twigs and held one over a flame to see if it was still good.

The sight of her nanny lighting fires and changing the smoke's color by humming was far more interesting to Annabelle than the pretend conversation her heads were having. "_Now _what are you doing?"

"Working magic," Tia answered without taking her eyes from the flame.

"Can I help?"

That got her attention all right. "You wan' to learn de spell?" She giggled at the child's vigorous nod. "Well I doan teach no magic for free."

"Oh. Well at home I have some money," Annie said hopefully.

"Dat's all right," Tia purred. Tonight she had discovered some gaping holes in her inventory, and it was well worth a few spells to fill one. "Yar a sweet little maid, child, and we doan see many o'dem here. Look into my eyes, and hold out yar hand." Keeping the girl mesmerized by her warm smile, she drew a bone knife from her bodice.

* * *

Hours later, Annabelle was rattling around a crusty cup with her eyes closed. "Will the bones really listen to me?" 

"Yes - near yar whole family be touched. Even yar brother can spell - and dat's rare, you know. Mostly be de women who- Oh..." She frowned at the way the bones had fallen this time. "Dis is a bad ting."

"Nooo," she whined, "But you said-"

"I said dey are all _alive_. Dem in our hearts we ask after, all still live. But dey are having problems. What kind, do you tink?"

Annabelle stared hard at the pattern of bones on the table, trying to remember what it meant when... "Um... problems with the earth?"

"Aye, parfect. Problems wit' de eart'." Tia flashed her a smile stained with potions too powerful to let a child taste. "Maybe a beast, maybe a storm. But no matter - dey are alive. Now we put de bones away - I need to make a different kind of magic."

"What kind? Can I try too?"

"No - dis kind use de powers you don' have yet. De greatest powars of all - de power of all dis" Tia raised her arms and spun around slowly.

She had tried today, very patiently and in very small words that a child would understand, to explain how much more powerful woman was than man. Annie hadn't understood at first - the men were so big, could throw things, could _kill _people... and Tia had explained that the men's so-called "power" was useless, considering how "Nobody t'row not'ing when I don' say, and be sure de men not so big when I put dem on dere knees. Dey doan kill nobody widout _my _order, everyone do what I say. And _dat_ is de best power of all."

Tonight, she decided, she would show off a little by projecting herself into Davy's dreams. It was unnecessary; the message she had for him could be delivered by half a dozen easier methods. She'd decided on invading his dreams because it was impressive to watch, and Tia liked people to be in awe of her, and she did _not _like little girls to grow up ignorant of their powers. The child would learn sooner or later how to vex men on her own, but in the meantime, someone ought to show her how easily even the strongest and coldest male could be bent by a smile.

"Far more powerful dan readin de future in tea leaves," she murmured to herself, gratified that Annie looked up from her shrunken heads to listen.

* * *

The next morning Barbossa watched the explorers' approach through the spyglass but managed to hold his tongue until they were actually standing on deck right in front of him. 

"What the blazes were you three doin up there?"

"My fault - my fault entirely," Jack said right away. "We should have come back last night, I know, but I was having far too much fun mud-wrestling with Elizabeth."

"Mud-wrestling?" Will repeated, staring at their ruined clothes and the dirt that caked their hair.

But Barbossa was not distracted so easily. He swatted at Jack's head and his hand came back bloody. "And this be what?" He caught Jack's wrist and squeezed til the fist unclenched. "And this? Not to mention the black eye."

"Oh, she... err... plays a little rough." Jack snatched his hand back and wiped the blood from his forehead. "I'm fine. Really. And I found out which way we need to go. The bloody bird's got quite a start on us, though. We'll have to make good time."

"I always make good time," Barbossa snapped, already kicking himself for showing concern. "Now let's go tell me the bearins, and then if you need to clean up you can do that once we're underway."

Jack hurried after him, trailing mud from his shredded clothes, trying to put a filthy arm around him while Barbossa growlingly fended it off. "Clean up? What on earth are you talking ab- _Ow_!"

* * *

TBC. 

I'm going away this weekend, so I will try to post tomorrow before I leave. Or, if that fails, I'll traipse all around unfamiliar cities looking for internet cafes, as usual. :o)

Leave me some love!


	10. Willie fights a little dirty

That day, intent on forgetting last night's crisis, Willie took a nice long fencing lesson and was unusually focused for the whole thing. When they were finished and he'd saluted his father and put his blade away, he noticed that an awful lot of people, including Captain Barbossa, were watching.

Will saw where his son's eyes were going. "Take a break first," he advised. "Wait til you've caught your breath. Remember Barbossa's lessons are a little more demanding than mine, in that he'll actually carve you up if you make mistakes. Be careful."

"Course." But it wasn't a lesson that Willie was in the mood for now. He crossed the deck with purpose, but by the time he reached his target, he found he'd lost his nerve. "Um. Captain?"

Barbossa looked him over. "You're blushin like a lovestruck schoolboy," he observed. "Let's guess: ye picked me a flower, and you'll be wantin to walk me home after church on Sunday? No?" he pressed when Willie still didn't find his tongue. "Then pray explain what be the problem?"

"I..." Willie took a deep breath and finally overcame his shyness. "You see how much better I've gotten since you first taught me..."

Barbossa settled back in his seat. He should have foreseen this; after all, the boy was at that age now. "And today, not of a mind to learn nothin, you want, shall we say, to see just exactly how far you've come?"

Willie nodded.

"If you've not got the guts to say it, boy, you'll not be able to do it either. Let's hear."

The fact that the captain already knew made it a little easier for Willie to get the words out. "Well, I've been practicing every day, and... I want to see if... if I can beat you now, Captain. I think maybe I can."

Barbossa smiled and stood up. It had been so long since anyone had called him out that it seemed like a good idea to show off a little. "Those words be the prelude to the deaths of an awful lot of people," he said calmly. "I'll gladly play to first blood with ye, but be careful - I'm an old man." He stood and stretched his arms over his head. "...And so I can't always pull me punches as fast as I used to."

Willie grinned at him, tossed his hair back, and drew his sword. "Fortunately you won't have to, sir. I can take care of mys- hey!" He jumped back just in time, then started paying a little more attention.

They went at it and it was a decent fight. Barbossa tossed his sword casually from hand to hand every now and again, fighting righty and lefty with equal facility. Willie, like most people, was awed and assumed it was just a deliberate demonstration of skill. It didn't occur to him that perhaps Barbossa was cautious these days about how long his strength would last, and didn't want to tire out his sword arm.

Finally they locked blades and stepped in close, Barbossa bearing down with his height advantage and Willie pressing up with the power of desperation. It looked grim for the boy, until he suddenly loosed his grip to tilt his point down from the horizontal. Barbossa's sword slid down the blade and Willie dodged it sideways, simultaneously heaving up with his elbow to catch his opponent hard in the head.

Barbossa flinched with the blow and Willie shoved him back. Before he could press the attack, though, he was interrupted by someone from the side: "Willie!"

Willie glanced to his father for just a split second. "What?"

"Aye, what?" the captain seconded, looking straight at Will, sounding indignant. "I taught him that in the first pl-" He sidestepped just as Willie lunged at him, and parried his blade hard to push him off balance. "-ace," he contined smoothly, tripping Willie and following him to the ground to plant a knee on his chest. "Just like I taught him how the best time to attack's when the enemy's not lookin. Good thought, boy, but you should have known I'd know better."

Both swords had been lost in the fall, so to put an end to Willie's hopeless struggling, Barbossa drew his knife. "First blood," he said thoughtfully. "Spose a pretty thing like you don't want a scar to the face, hmm?" He was only teasing, just to scare him, but in fact it had the opposite effect.

"No no, please, I'd love one," Willie begged, closing his eyes. "Go ahead. Do you think I _like _people telling me I look like a cherub all the time?"

"Cherub?"

"Parents' friends. I've heard it more than once."

Barbossa laughed and just nicked him on the arm. "You'll probly get bashed up plenty where we're goin," he explained as he helped the boy to his feet. "No need to start early."

He went off to go lecture Will about how dirty fighting was to be praised rather than censured, and consequently missed Jack sidling up to propose, "If you want, I can show you how to annoy him enough to make him cut you for real."

* * *

Crossing blades with a strong and competent fifteen-year-old had left Barbossa sweaty and winded and so, after he'd given Will an earful, he strutted (limped) over to the railing to let the spray cool him off. He had not been there two minutes when someone came up from behind and had the audacity to start stroking him. It could only be one of two people. 

Barbossa glanced down at the hand on his arm and noticed that it was not wearing a multitude of chunky rings. Thank goodness. "Now don't tell me _you _want a turn next, missie."

"Captain," she laughed, coming to stand fully beside him, "By now I'm practically an old woman. How long are you going to call me _missie_?"

He glanced over and couldn't help but think that her eyes - big, soft, a bit mischevious - belonged on a lusty little wench of fifteen rather than a happily married lady of thirty.

And he couldn't help himself. "That depends," he purred, turning to face her. He planted his hands on the railing, trapping her between them, and leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. "By now, you and I be practically..." He paused just long enough to breathe against her mouth and let her appreciate just how closely they were pressed together. "..._family._ How long are you plannin on callin me _Captain_?"

He moved away to stand beside her again, and she tried not to stare at him. "Well!" she huffed, wishing she could sound more offended and less breathless. "After that I'm tempted to say, _forever._"

He seemed pleased. "Aye. Forever it is, then - _missie_."

Realizing she'd been tricked and trapped as usual, Elizabeth shook her head and muttered, "Bloody impossible." Barbossa opened his mouth but before he could speak she put a finger in his face. "_No,_" she anticipated, "Do _not _say, 'pirate,' as if that excuses every outrageous thing you do, because every time from now on I'm just going to answer, 'mother,' and put you over my knee on the spot."

She lowered her hand and was relieved to see that he looked amused. "Is that so."

"Oh, yes. Count on it." But she was already edging away, trying to stop giggling.

He took a step in her direction but a loud "_AHEM_" stopped him.

They both turned to see Will watching with his arms crossed. "May I ask what's going on here?"

"He started it," Elizabeth said at once, pointing.

Caught completely off guard by such an unexpected and childish move, Barbossa's jaw dropped. "I- But- S'not even true!" he produced at last. "You know... Get you gone, miss." He narrowed his eyes and raised his head in challenge. "Captain's orders."

She narrowed her eyes right back, then grumbled, "Aye aye, sir," and left the deck.

"Awkward indeed," Will muttered under his breath. "Look, I just came to tell you that at this rate we'll be able to see that bird's light come nightfall. Tomorrow we may even have caught up enough to see it straight out. Jack says-"

"How long til we're close enough to shoot it, d'you think?" Barbossa muttered. "Look, go make yourself useful - if we're going to hunt for Davy we'll likely be tanglin with that monster of his, and every good idea we've ever had for it has come from you. Go think up some new things to try."

* * *

Norrington hesitated just a second before knocking. "Governor? It's Norrington." 

"Enter."

He went inside and closed the study door behind him, of the opinion that any business that had to be conducted in the dead of night ought probably not be overheard by the Governor's underlings.

"Good evening, James." Beckett's smile was even more mocking than usual. "It's a pleasure to see you. You're looking well."

"Compared to what - a corpse?" Norrington snorted, slouching against the wall.

"Actually, compared to the _last _time you and I met to discuss secret alliances." Quick as ever to find the sore spot and poke at it, Beckett reminded, "You know, the time you brought me Davy Jones's heart... when you came to beg for your job back... and you smelled like a pig? _That _time."

"Oh, yes - _that _time." Norrington flashed him a strained smile. "You'll forgive me if I don't remember it as well as you; it's so many years ago for me. I didn't have the luxury of being dead for a decade in between..."

"Well." Beckett dipped his pen in ink very carefully without looking up. "It's a luxury you may soon enjoy if you don't watch your step. You kept me waiting an _hour_ tonight and I don't appreciate it. I own you, James. Don't forget that. One word from me-"

"You own me?" Norrington cocked his head in mock puzzlement. He went on the offensive, because it would be too embarrassing to admit the truth: he was late because he was on a horrible drunken bender this weekend and had been unable to stop vomiting. "You own me! Ah, yes, I'd forgotten. I was wondering what on earth I was doing getting up in the middle of the night to answer the call of a tyrannical madman I don't even like! Now I remember - it's because he owns me. Thanks very much for clearing up the confusion."

Beckett locked eyes with him until he looked away. "I don't like being owned any more than you do," he said softly. For once he was actually speaking with honesty, but Norrington didn't seem to care. "Listen very carefully. You once believed in second chances. In the possibility of... of _getting one's life back, _I believe is how you phrased it to me?" He watched a muscle in Norrington's neck jump and tense. "No more miserable days locked in an office... You could sail again, James..."

"Quite aside from the fact that I am legally prohibited from ever having command of a ship," Norrington reminded stiffly, "I don't deserve to sail."

"I can have the legal obstacles vanish in a moment. And do you think _I _deserved much of what I took for myself? Anyway." Beckett waved it off. "I didn't bring you here to tempt you, I brought you here to give you orders. I just wanted you to understand what's at stake. You need to realize that this time, you have a chance. _We _have a chance. Am I making myself clear?"

Norrington was looking at him now, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Plain as day, Governor."

"Good." Beckett settled back in his chair. "Things don't always go according to plan, you of all people should know that, so the less said aloud, the better. Pay attention. Davy Jones says he has received word that the Turners - all four of them - are currently aboard the _Black Pearl._ Jones says he trusts the accuracy of his source, but he does not trust her motives. He therefore wants _me _to chase the ship instead of him."

"In case it's a trap," Norrington realized. "Well. _Chase _the ship... what exactly does he want?"

"The pirates, of course - alive and with Elizabeth. You know the games he plays." Beckett smiled mirthlessly. "Jones likes people to make hard choices, but for those pirates every choice is easy: do what's best for me and devil take the other fellow. Sparrow and Barbossa would sell each other into slavery if the price was right."

"But they do have a soft spot for Mrs. Turner." Norrington nodded. "So with her on the ship, this is the time when they are weakest - when Jones can have the most..." he felt a little sick but finally produced the word "_fun _with them."

"Exactly. Now, remember that Jones has demanded _my help,_" Beckett enunciated carefully. "This could mean he is in trouble. I'm sending you - in a strictly unofficial capacity of course; this mission must be kept _sec-ret..._" He drew out the word and added a gesture, just in case it was true that Norrington had drunk himself utterly stupid. "I'm sending you out to, _if you see fit_, capture the pirates as Jones has requested. However, if a better course of action reveals itself to you..."

_In other words, _Norrington thought grimly,_ You want to betray Davy Jones but you're such a coward you're having me do it in your place._

Not that his life was worth much these days anyway. And it _was _a chance to get out to sea for a while... away from the sorrowful eyes of his wife and the pitying whispers the servants thought he was too despondent to notice. He shrugged. "Understood, Governor. I'll do my best, but to be honest, if I'm chasing the _Pearl_ you'd best give me a ship and crew you wouldn't mind losing."

* * *

TBC.

K i'm updating far from home. sorry for typos. review for me!!


	11. Barbossa finally gets to sleep with Liz

A/N: This is kinda long, which explains the delay. It's something of a quiet B/E-ish chapter. Apologies if that's not your cup of tea, but I promise, everything has a purpose (mostly!). Next chapter is pretty actiony. Very, actually, so enjoy the fluff while it's here...

* * *

Elizabeth was annoyed that she had wasted her moment alone with Barbossa flirting, when in fact she should have been discussing what she had done to Jack. Not that Barbossa would ordinarily be her first choice of external conscience, of course, but she wasn't too keen to confess her near-murder to Will, and the rest of the _Pearl_'s crew these days seemed entirely composed of ugly and loutish young men who were far too drunk to be of any assistance to her whatsoever. 

But after that one day, for some reason or another she could never catch the captain at a good time - he always seemed busy or distracted or unusually crabby. She wondered if she was imagining it.

Jack noticed too, and he _knew _he wasn't imagining it, but years of experience had taught him that asking would only get him a growly warning to mind his own business. Someone without as sharp a sense of self-preservation would undoubtedly step up to sort it all out...

* * *

"Captain?" 

Hand in his coat, Barbossa spun around so fast that Willie's first thought was that he was going to be shot-

But the captain was just going for his flask. "Here's hopin it be important - whatever it is," he growled, and took a drink.

Willie pretended not to notice how bloodshot his eyes were and how unsteady his hands. "Actually, I was hoping it _wasn't _important. I wanted to know what's wrong the last few days, that's all."

"Did you now." Barbossa's eyes narrowed. "If I wanted a wife, boy, I'd have married your mother. Or Jack," he added as an afterthought, remembering Jack's oblique but repeated suggestions of beauty rest and a cheering stop in Singapore. Jack might not have dared to actually physically _ask_ him about his bad mood this time, but that didn't mean he had entirely kept his nose out of it. "Did he put you up to this?"

"No." But then Willie thought about it, and realized that all those offhand comments Jack had been making probably added up to something deliberate. He shrugged. "Not directly, anyway."

Barbossa read him loud and clear. "Figures. Well you can stop worryin," he said, "Because everything's fine. And also because if you start askin me too many questions, we might find you're still not too old for a good hidin."

Willie grinned. Growling or not, this was the captain at his most affectionate, so if there was ever going to be a time... "All right - but may I ask just one more question first?" He took a second to get up the nerve. "Can I see the design Jack put on your shoulder?"

"Can ye _what!?_"

Hands raised just in case, Willie shrieked "I swear I have a really good reason!" so fast his voice cracked.

Barbossa relaxed, just a little. "Which be?" He put his hand to his buttons and waited.

"Please don't tell my parents," Willie said quickly. He looked around to be sure they weren't watching, then explained, "I was thinking of getting one myself. Before I ask you or Captain Sparrow to cut and ink me, I want to see who would do it better. I saw what you wrote on him, and truth be told, sir, it was a little sloppy."

Barbossa chuckled, wondering where on earth he had gotten the idea that the kid was short on backbone. "All right. But feel priviledged," he added as he undid a few buttons and pulled his collar aside. "You'll be the only one asides the artist himself to ever see this mark. It's gettin carved out soon's I get a minute."

The wound was still healing, but even through the angry red swelling Willie could tell, "Wow."

"Aye. Jack does good work - even on his own shoulder where he can't barely see. He'd probably do yours even better." He hissed as Willie touched it, waved off the apology, and then closed up his shirt again. "Listen here: do it if you like, but if you let your father think I had somethin to do with it, and he so much as opens his mouth to me, it'll be one time too many and I may throw him overboard."

Willie went off with a laugh. Considering he was fifteen and thinking of ways to sneak a tattoo past his parents, it was only natural that figuring out what was wrong with the captain had entirely slipped his mind.

* * *

And so for a while, as they passed off the edges of the map into the uncharted waters that everyone uneasily suspected lead nowhere, Barbossa did such a passable imitation of his usual behavior that nobody else asked him questions. 

It got harder and harder though as the dreams got worse. Originally he had been waking up in a cold sweat to the sound of the _Pearl _breaking; now, he saw the disaster all the way through - hull smashed to pieces, mast cracked and toppling, people screaming, jumping overboard so as not to get pulled under as she sank. Jack fighting the wheel, as if there were anything he could possibly do, Elizabeth tossed off into the bloody water, people bashed open against sharp rocks... And Will Turner next to him, saying, "This is your fault. _Your fault_, Hector - I warned you." In the dream he made a dive for somebody - Jack, Elizabeth, sometimes even her kid - and woke up as he hit the water. Sweating, shaking, cursing up a storm because he _never _remembered his dreams.

The fact that this one was so vivid had to mean something, he thought... Perhaps they should turn back. On the other hand, he knew he would look foolish if he suggested giving up based on a dream... on the _other _hand, how terrible would it be if he doomed the ship, when he _knew _better, just to avoid looking foolish... on the _other-_other hand, he knew that of all the bad feelings he'd had over the years, none had ever actually preceded a real disaster... on the _other _other_-_other hand, perhaps that was because he had always _averted _the potential disasters, by following whatever bizarre course of action his sixth sense suggested to him.

And this time, it was suggesting that he put that glow-in-the-dark bird to his rudder because this trip would not end well at all.

One night he woke up on the floor barely an hour after he had gone to bed - a new record. He doubted he would be able to get back to sleep, and lying still to listen with growing jealousy as Jack snored and mumbled in his sleep about billowing rum pies (whatever _they _were) was just making him feel worse.

So he stumbled out on deck in his pants and shirtsleeves - no coat or hat or vest or shoes, which was rare... And _unarmed, _which was rarer still.

It turned out to be a good thing, though, because while he was standing brooding in the moonlight, somebody crept up behind him and cleared their throat. Barbossa was startled so badly he probably would have shot them if he'd had his pistol. Instead he just flinched, swore, wiped his forehead (again), and then turned to face the visitor.

"Attemptin to scare the captain to death, missie, treads awful close to mutiny in my opinion," he growled breathlessly.

"I'll bet." Elizabeth advanced a step and peered into his face to confirm her guess. "And how about attempting to comfort the captain after a nightmare?"

"That would be practically a death sentence," he agreed evenly.

"I'm willing to risk it." She put her hands on his hips tentatively and cocked her head at him. "What hap-" she couldn't finish the question because he pulled her in and squeezed her half to death, hiding his face in her hair. She kept quiet and just hugged him back.

A few minutes later, when they were sitting back to back staring up at the stars, each with their own bottle of booze, he was finally able to explain: "Of course I don't mind the _dreamin_, it's just I think... well... y'know, that perhaps it might come true. And it's... bad. Don't ask what it is. I'm not tellin, or _you'll _be havin nightmares, too."

He had carefully avoided using the word _afraid _but she heard it anyway. "Rubbish," she told him firmly, crossing her arms with conviction even though he couldn't see her. "Dreams aren't real and it's completely absurd to think they mean anything." She figured he wouldn't mind her taking a tone with him just this once. "I _forbid_ you to think about it anymore, Captain - you have to sleep. Or else soon Willie _will _be able to beat you in a swordfight. So will I, for that matter; you look terrible. Rest your head a moment, would you? Think of something nice. There's nothing to worry about."

She turned and settled him into her lap, meaning just to soothe him until he felt he could go back to bed, but as soon as she started petting him he dropped right off to sleep.

If he did have the dream again that night, he didn't remember it.

* * *

She woke up with the first rays of light in the morning. Her legs had fallen asleep and her neck was killing her. People would be getting up soon, and though she hated to cut short a rest the captain so clearly needed, she guessed he would prefer that the crew not see him snoring on the floor like a bum. "Captain?" He didn't move, and she leaned a little closer. "Pssst. Barbossa." She shook him. Still nothing, so she put her lips directly against his ear and whispered, "I know you're awake. If you don't sit up, I'll pour water on you." 

He laughed and sat up, squinting against the light. "_Arrr. _Mornin."

"Morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Aye. Best I've had in I don't know how long. Thank ye, Elizabeth."

All of a sudden her eyes shot to something up over his shoulder. He winced at the look on her face. "Husband?" he guessed without turning. She nodded. "Armed?" Another nod.

Barbossa didn't mind too much; fighting for one's life was a very exciting way to wake up in the morning, and besides, the only weapon within reach was the dagger down Elizabeth's shirt. He chuckled "Pardon, miss," as he went for it, and turned to face the attacker...

He was almost disappointed when Will just swung his sword through the air in frustration and then put it away. "_God_! Why?" Will hissed. "Why do you people have to do this?" He looked to Elizabeth. "Go on and say it before I _do _something."

She was getting to her feet. "Will, nothing happened," she recited dutifully, smiling a little.

He glared daggers at them each in turn. "Good. And I would much appreciate it if the two of you didn't take such pains to convince me otherwise." He turned away, shaking his head and snarling, "_Best I've had, __Elizabeth. _Hmph!" under his breath.

* * *

That afternoon they came upon a very unhealthy-looking piece of water that boasted not just one whirlpool, or two or even half a dozen, but a massive spread of them stretching as far as the glass could see in either direction. "Impossible," Barbossa breathed. 

"Now, we've been through this," Jack reminded patiently. "You can't say _impossible _for something that's already true, right? So not impossible. How about... impleasant? Imnatural?" He glanced towards Will and added, "Impotent?"

Not in the mood for games, Barbossa just growled deep in his throat.

Their guide, of course, being a bird, could fly straight over a field of imnatural whirlpools. When they saw for sure that they were actually supposed to sail straight into it, Jack and Barbossa exchanged glances. "We can go back, or we could try and go through," Jack murmured.

"Forward or back, hmm? Why, thank ye, Jack - I'd forgotten how travellin works," Barbossa snarled at him. He bit his lip. "What think ye?"

"Me? Well," Jack began, "Call me optimistic, mate, but really, I think we can do it. I do. I mean, those things are no joke - if we get too close they'll suck us right down - but there's plenty of room to sail between and around and all... I think..."

"I..." _It's absurd to think it means anything, _Barbossa reminded himself. Dream or no dream, he knew he could pilot through the mess. Especially if he didn't lose his bloody confidence over _nothing_!

"Aye?" Jack repeated. "Good, thought so. Now, I'd say we'll be stuck in this for at least a couple of days... how do you want to do it?"

"I'll get us started," Barbossa volunteered at once. "And ye'll take over come nightfall - you see better in the dark. Til then, go get some sleep." Even _thinking _about leaving their safety in Jack's hands made him edgy, so he added, "And Jack, if you're not at your sharpest tonight, so help me..."

"If we're not _both _at our sharpest, mate, so help us all, eh?" Not liking how the deck was already rocking a little less smoothly, Jack ordered, "At least one of you Williams is to stick right by his side and do whatever he tells you."

"I'll do it," Willie said at once. "And then Father, you come on at night with Captain Sparrow... and Mother..."

Terrified of losing the good-luck charm that let him sleep, Barbossa jumped in with the first reason that popped into his head: "Wench can't be on deck the same shifts as Turner - they get distracted worryin about each other."

He put his hat in his teeth and retied his bandana - the wind was starting to whip his hair across his face - and then limped over to the wheel, already barking orders.

Will did go off without giving his usual _If anything happens to __Elizabeth _speech, but the effort nearly killed him.

* * *

TBC. 

As I said, sorry for the slow. Upcoming is flurries of danger n action n pirates n Norrie n evil witchery.

I think I want to try and finish this story before AWE comes out, which means it will end up being good deal shorter than the other ones. Maybe 20-30 chapters instead of like 40+, we'll see. I think I can settle everything in that time...

Leave me love!

And if you're getting ready to complain that the title was misleading, it's not! At first Barbossa couldn't get to sleep, he finally gets to sleep, and he's with Elizabeth when he does. So there!


	12. Elizabeth knows the story

A/N: Jack maneuvers his ship somewhat weirdly this chapter, but if I'm reading the AWE previews correctly, they have him running everybody back and forth on deck to rock a ship until it tips over. This being no weirder than that, y'all can just put those "WTF?!" expressions back in the box they came from and return 'em to the store for a full refund, and then keep reading. So there.

* * *

The officers were clustered around Norrington staring at a mess of whirlpools spinning in various directions that reason said should be impossible. Most of them had the good sense to read their captain's mood and keep quiet, but one of them at last opened his mouth to ask, "Are you _sure _this is the way we go, sir?" 

At that, Norrington's frayed nerves finally snapped. "Of course I'm sure! How do I know? I know because Governor Beckett told me. How did _he _know? He heard it from a man who's part Satan and part octopus! How did _he _know? A witch sent it to him in a dream! I _told _you it made sense. Perfect sense! Satisfied?" He'd gone so long without alcohol that his hands were shaking, which he knew didn't help his credibility any, but fortunately he had help.

"Everyone whose input is _not _required - and for your information, that includes all of you - will return to his post at once," Gilette said coldly from Norrington's side. "Good gracious, sir," he breathed as they dispersed, "I should hope _I _was never so much trouble when I was their age?"

Still amazed that his old lieutenant missed him enough to sign on for this thankless mission when it was entirely below his station and there were better things he could be doing, Norrington answered, "You? Please, Gilette, you were always fantastic." This was not true - Gilette in fact had been a quite boring young man, incapable of making the slightest decision without asking for guidance first.

And true to form, Gilette initially kept his opinion to himself. "So do we go, sir?"

Norrington took a breath and stared out at the whirlpools. "I don't see any debris at all, which suggests to me that the _Pearl _made it through, in one piece. Do you think we can too?"

Gilette tried not to look surprised at the direct plea for advice. "I... well, I think you're capable of sailing it, yes..."

Norrington knew him too well. "But?" he pressed.

"... But, considering, you know, past events," he said delicately, "It might be best if you gathered up the crew and promised them that we'll turn back if it becomes too dangerous. Just to reassure them."

_A good point, _Norrington admitted bitterly. _Given my track record, they'd be fools to have faith in my judgment. _"Yes, and I'll be sure to use a lot of we when I talk," he agreed. "They trust you."

Gilette made shy eye contact and smiled. "Anything I know about leadership, sir..." He didn't even finish the sentence but it was enough to fluster Norrington half to death anyway.

* * *

Norrington and Gilette piloted their ship expertly through the dangerous waters for the rest of the day and all through the night. When day broke and they were still surrounded by deadly vortexes in every direction, though, they started to have a bad feeling about it. 

"How do you want to proceed, sir?" Gilette asked blandly. "Do you need a rest? You look tired."

"Well, of course I'm tired." Norrington kept his voice under control. "But would you like to do this alone? Of course not. You and I will just have to push-" The rest of his sentence was lost to a yawn. He blinked. "You think we should turn back while we still can, don't you."

"I think we may lose the pirates if we do, sir. On the other hand, we will _definitely _lose them if we let our ship get dragged down to the depths..."

Norrington thought it over and then gave the orders to turn around. It should, he reflected, feel like a failure, but all he could think of was the hurricaine. It was as if he had a tiny bit of something of a second chance, and this time he got it right. (But of course it was not enough... and considering how just the _thought _of the hurricaine still made him shudder after more than a decade and a half, he doubted anything ever would be.)

* * *

Jack and Barbossa, though, taking turns, got the _Pearl _through the whirlpools without too much trouble. There were a few close calls at night, but Jack was able to feel pretty quickly when the ship was getting picked up by an imnatural current or wind, and gently steered her out of it every time. 

Barbossa half-expected the ship to shatter at any minute and so was on edge his whole shift, but other than that, he held up pretty well too.

"And now," Jack said brightly once they had ducked around the last of the whirlpools and reached flat ocean again, "We get to see what's been _causing _that lovely landscape." He gathered up the Turners around him and proceded to explain the legend. "Have you ever seen rocks... that move?"

"You mean other than the ones you were slingshotting up at that bird?" Willie put in.

"Oh, Jack, I've read about this," Elizabeth moaned. "Giagantic boulders, two of them, that slowly move together until they crush whatever's between them. Is that it?"

"Yep. That's it exactly, love. Only that's not all." Jack was rapidly warming to his story, and began sprinkling in dramatic squashing and moving gestures that did not make her feel any better. "It's my understanding that as the rocks move, they kick up some fierce currents that drag you in so you can't turn back... and also some fierce headwinds that keep you from making very good time. And it's important to make very good time..."

"Because if you don't," Will finished for him bleakly, "The rocks will crush you. I understand."

"Jack, the legends say something about a bird," Elizabeth remembered.

"Aye. And we just so happen to _have _a guide bird, darling, don't we! Let's just hope Tia's done us a favor and not given us a bird that's just a little faster than we are," he murmured after a moment. "That wouldn't be nice. In fact, it would get us killed."

"Oh, God." Will turned away.

At that moment Barbossa hollered for Jack and handed over the spyglass. "Look - rocks're in sight. Let's see how that filthy peacock does when it tries to fly though. Accordin to the tale, if the bird lives, we will too. If it gets crushed..."

"Then we've made quite a trip for nothing," Jack agreed, then raised his voice. "Right - take in sail! We can't get too close just yet, not til we see what happens with old Feathers. We've got to time it perfectly. We can do this, mates! Almost certainly!"

* * *

The bird seemed to make it... at least, they stayed so far away that they couldn't see whether it did or not, and Jack was convinced that they would have seen a very big and colorful explosion if it had failed. 

(Barbossa's suspicion that the peacock was now just a bloody smudge on one of the boulders went unvoiced.)

After the boulders clashed together there was some very rough sea, but after their decades' worth of storms, the captains hardly noticed it. They were busy watching the rocks through the spyglass - when they started to move apart again, it was time to go.

They ran out the oars since the wind was not being very cooperative, and the _Pearl _started picking up speed. "Twenty years old, here we come," Jack muttered.

"Twenty-three," Barbossa corrected. At twenty he'd still been taking somebody else's orders; it was not an age he particularly wanted to go back to if he could avoid it. He was quiet for a bit as they got closer, but after a while he frowned. "Jack, I don't like this - we're not goin fast enough-"

"It's fine," Jack assured. "The current will pick us up, we're all right, just watch..."

But as the rocks hit their farthest point and began moving towards each other again, Barbossa wasn't the only one getting nervous. Will looked at least as uneasy as he did, squinting at the boulders, not liking them, feeling that the image was somehow familiar. But considering he had obviously never been to the Fountain of Youth before, it was clearly... from where?

Ah. From that eerie dream last night, the one he'd tried so hard to forget when he woke up. The one about Annie, filthy and covered in leaves and mud, tugging on his sleeve: _Papa, look. Look. I want to show you. _

That's very nice, Annie - did you draw that all by yourself?

Um no she helped me but look you have to look at them. This one is the place you can't go to, see that one's the ship after it gets squashed, that one's Mama but her head broke... no they're not all scary though, this one's a little boy his name is Jack and that tail he's pulling-

"Jack, did you ever have a cat?" Will asked suddenly.

Jack didn't even turn to look at him. "I detest cats."

"Well, did you? Did your mother?"

Jack turned slowly, frowning. "Yes, she did. I hated the little beast - she loved it more than she loved me, and fed it better, too. Now, if we could concentrate on the matter at hand-"

"Will!" Barbossa snapped. Everyone turned to him. "Why?"

Will had never felt so foolish in his life as he explained, "Nothing, I mean, of course it's nothing, I just had this... dream. I could swear it-"

Barbossa grabbed Jack's arm. "We turn back. Now. We're not going to make it."

Jack stared at him. "We are so," he said finally. "The legend says-"

"Do it! I don't care what the legend says!" Barbossa bellowed as he stormed over to the wheel.

Will followed him. "You've been having the dreams too."

"Aye. For a while now. _Get up there, you!" _he shouted to someone who wasn't quite moving fast enough. "Jack, get 'em on the oars! Now!"

But Jack rushed up to him and fought to keep the wheel steady. "Feel this current and look at those rocks. The _Pearl _is going to bash up against them no matter how hard we turn. It's too late, mate - we try for the gap or we're going to die."

"We're goin to die if we _do _try for that gap," Barbossa spat, fighting to turn. "The dreams been quite clear on that point. For me and Turner both. Jack..." he lowered his voice and strained to make eye contact with the wheel between them. "I may be a lot of things but I'm not o'er-impulsive. Nor a coward. I'm sure this be a mistake that'll kill us, and ye will just have to take my word for it."

Jack slapped the wheel, hard. "If you're so sure then for Heaven's sake why did you wait til now to say something?!"

Barbossa glanced towards Elizabeth and only just barely resisted the urge to hide behind a girl. "Because I kept thinkin t'was just nerves talkin... and o'course I'd never tell ye _we have to give up - I'm afraid_!" Jack wasn't looking nearly so skeptical now, and it certainly _was _too late to turn, so he stepped back from the wheel and bet it all on a long shot. "She's your lady, Jack. Do somethin."

For Jack, emergency or not there was _always _time to argue. "Oh, so _now _she's my lady! When you want to not _die _she's my ship! Is that it?"

"Aye, sounds right." Barbossa was completely unapologetic. "What do? Considerin we all know _you _don't want to die neither."

"Christ Jesus, this isn't fair. All right... hold on." Jack looked around, paced back and forth a few steps, and then snapped his fingers. "Right. Got it," he said brightly, "Port side... lower the anchor."

"Port..." Barbossa blinked. "But we've already turned a little - the other way."

"Yes well now we're turning the way _I _said. Cmon, you just said she's my lady, right? Trust me, mate. This might work."

* * *

On Jack's orders they took any and all measures to turn left. They dropped the anchor off the port bow, leaned on the wheel, lowered a couple of the sails, and even used the oars. 

As Jack had expected, the current dragged at the _Pearl _and pulled her stern around until she'd done a complete about-face in the water.

They now had their backs to the rock trap, and though the current was pulling them towards death, the wind was behind them. "Full sail!" Barbossa shouted. "Handle it, Turner. I'm goin below."

He thundered down, hollering, "Row for your lives, gentlemen!" at the top of his lungs. He soon thought of a better idea: "On the count of ten I shoot the man pullin the weakest! In the foot, o'course," he added a moment later, "So's it don't excuse him from doin his duty. Row! One! Two! That's it, gents, heave! Three!..."

Meanwhile, up on deck, Jack had his back to the action and was murmuring encouragement to the ship itself. Will and Elizabeth were the ones giving the useful orders pertaining to hoisting the sails and cutting loose the anchor because that was faster than hauling it up.

As the rocks moved closer together and the wind picked up, the _Pearl _began to move against the current. Jack watched the speed of it all and finally decided they were far away enough not to get sucked in and smashed when the rocks hit. "All right, we're making it!" he shouted. "Rack the oars - all hands on deck!"

Willie rushed below to pass on the order. Barbossa chased everyone up on deck and they scurried around making the preparations Jack ordered and then-

Behind them, the rock pillars came together with a thunderous crack.

And a _gigantic _tidal wave.

Jack and Barbossa looked at it and looked at each other and both dashed to the wheel. "Bright side: it's better than a _boring _death," Jack murmured. "_EVERYBODY HOLD ON_!"

* * *

TBC. 

Sorry for the cliffie! I'm going away this weekend but I'll almost definitely update once more before I go.

The next chapter is super actiony with lots of craziness and Will being heroic and Barbossa being a jerk and Jack being as wackily competent as ever. Review for me, and check for updates like Thursday or Friday.


	13. Will doesn't mind getting cut in half

Will rushed up to Elizabeth as she was tying a very secure knot around her waist. He followed the rope and saw that the other end was tight around Willie. Elizabeth took his hand. "Get another piece, Will - I'll do you, too."

"No time." Will grabbed up the slack in the rope between them and looped it around himself.

"Are you mad?" Elizabeth shrieked, trying to untangle him. "If one of us is washed overboard we'll cut you in half!"

"Elizabeth." He got her by the wrists. "If I lost either of you, it would cut me in more pieces than you can imagine. Let me stay where I know I've got you. Please."

She stared into his eyes and-

"Father!" Willie shook him and then smacked him in the face with both hands. "Come on, what would Barbossa say about this? Let go, or I'll cut the rope, and then _none _of us will have any protection!"

"So you'll endanger yourself _and _your mother just so that I don't get cut in half?" Will demanded. "Now what would Barbossa say about _that_!"

"How about we do what _I_ say for a change!" Elizabeth screamed over the both of them. She freed Will from the rope and threw both her arms around him. "I've got you. Now Willie - hang on."

There was a terrific lurch as the ship was picked up by the massive wave, and lifted. As it sped along the three of them went to the ground and clung to whatever looked sturdiest...

"Elizabeth, I love you..."

"Will... I can't watch..."

Willie opened his eyes for a split second and peeked through the railing. "Bugger me, we've had it."

* * *

Jack and Barbossa strained against the wheel - and each other - trying to steady the ship as she was swept away. "Let go, fool - you're pullin the wrong way!" Barbossa snarled. 

"No, steady on, this is right- Oh, uh-oh-" Some water splashed up over them and Jack saw the bow dip a little and realized they were going over the edge - about to be dropped as the giant wave broke. He grabbed for the loop of rope that was kept tied to the wheel in case of rough seas, threw it over the both of them, and stuffed both their hats down his shirt. He wrapped his arms around his partner from behind. "Not to say _I told you so, _mate, but maybe we shouldn't've turned around after all."

"Shut up, Jack," Barbossa growled over his shoulder, grasping the wheel with both hands and shifting his feet to their stablest base possible. "Hold on. We're doin it - my God feel that..."

Jack unhid his face from Barbossa's coat and opened his eyes. "I think we're flying."

"Fallin."

There was a terrific crash and Barbossa closed his eyes. Water smashed over him, bashing him into the wheel and choking him but he didn't care, because he was hearing the dreaded familiar sound of splintering, breaking... the _Pearl _going to pieces, just like he'd dreamed...

Jack's arms were still around his chest. Lord only knew how long that would last, though, with the water tearing at them, so he let go of the wheel with one hand and grabbed Jack's wrist just in case.

As soon as there was air again Jack spit a lungful of water at him and coughed, "Idiot," and freed up one of his own hands to hang onto the wheel with.

Together they kept the ship rightside up as she was tossed by the wave's aftershocks, and Barbossa eventually blinked enough salt out of his eyes to realize that they weren't yet sinking. Then what about the sound he had heard?

"Bloody hell," Jack muttered into his ear, "We've lost a mast."

Aha. Barbossa felt dizzy with relief. "S'all right, we've got others..."

The ship was steadying enough for Jack to pull back and stand on his own two feet. "Not if we don't untangle the one that broke. We have to cut it loose; if it pulls down everything else we'll _really _be in trouble."

Barbossa wiped his face and heaved left, using all his weight to try and steer. "Looks like somebody's already on it. Who's that climbing? Turner?"

"Aye. Two of them, actually." Jack squinted to be sure. "Willie and Elizabeth."

Had Barbossa not been lashed to the wheel, his first move would have been to get within shouting distance and inform the two of them that they had better get down here this minute or so help him he would shoot.

Jack stopped him as he struggled free. "Don't be Will," he warned. "Just stay here. Steer. I will handle them."

"I know. I know," Barbossa spat, just marginally under control. "It's just Turner was supposed to _stop _her doin this. Get on up there and cut it free and do _not _let those two go over because I am _not _divin in after them!"

"Damn right you're not. Here's your hat. I'll be back."

* * *

Jack scurried up after them, untying lines and cutting through them to try and separate the ruined mast from the good one. "Lizzie! How goes it?" 

"Almost done with this bit here," she shouted back. "What are you doing - I thought the captain was supposed to order _other _people to do the dangerous chores!"

"Of all the people on this ship," he called, still cutting, "The only ones mad enough to be up here, orders or no orders, is the three of us. And Will - who is where?"

"Safe," she answered firmly. "Now- _whoa!_" The rope she was cutting gave way suddenly and the sails shifted and she tried to hang on but-

"Mother, I've got you!" Willie called from a little distance away. "S'all right - let go!"

Jack scrambled to get into a better position as the ship lurched. "Swing over here," he invited. "I'll catch you! _Actually _catch you, that is," he added under his breath. "Not Elizabeth-catch you."

Elizabeth slipped off, hanging frantically onto her rope and kicking her feet. Willie swung her to within grabbing distance of Jack and then finished up what _he _was cutting. "Now catch _me_!" he shouted as he leaped out into the air.

Jack scrambled to loop the rope around something so it wouldn't tug Elizabeth to pieces when it went taut. While he helped Willie climb up, Elizabeth tied cloth around her already-bleeding hands and got a new grip. "Lower me down a little and I'll get that piece over there," she ordered. "Let's go - we're almost done."

* * *

"Almost done" was an optimistic assessment; it took them another half hour. In that time, Barbossa steadied the ship to the point where he could leave the wheel in someone else's hands while he went to go find Will Turner and wring his neck. 

He found him lying speadeagled on deck, tied to the grating over one of the hatches. "Let me up!" Will demanded when he saw who it was. "Where are they? Untie me!"

"Ye have a lot of nerve askin favors," Barbossa growled as he went to a knee and took his knife out. "You were supposed to watch her. And the boy. Now look what-"

"Oh, stuff it! Who taught her to brain people with a pistol when they're not looking, hmm?" Will snarled. "Who taught her to tie people til they can't move a muscle? Give me that." As soon as he had a hand free he took the knife and started sawing at the other ropes. "Where are they?"

"With Jack, cuttin loose the mast that's broken. Listen. Before people start makin us talk about those dreams... I have a question."

"I only had them a few times, the last two or three nights. What about them?"

"Y'saw Jack's cat," he drawled, finding himself unable to make eye contact if his life depended on it. "So I need to know what other... whether..."

"...whether I saw any of _your _secrets as well?" Will finished for him as he worked on the last rope. He thought of lying, but knew he was so bad at it that he might as well just confess straight off. "Yes - if you call it a secret - I saw bastinado scars."

Barbossa laughed a little - not happily. "Aye. She _would _show that, wouldn't she." He shook his head. "Forget 'em."

"Of course." And, of course, as soon as he'd promised that, Will started thinking about them. _Marks that bad, you can't even walk afterwards, _he thought. _He was probably crawling for weeks. Uh oh-_

"That looks suspiciously like thinkin to me," Barbossa warned. "I had best not see it again."

"Er... right." Will got to his feet and backed away. _How am I supposed to stop myself from thinking? _he wondered._ Well, not ALL thinking is off-limits, _he remembered a moment later._ Only thinking about his sc- damn it, I just thought about it again. Stop. Well how can I help it, I mean they were- no, there you go again, it's all right though, that time Barbossa wasn't watching. How about don't even think about Barbossa at all, because then you'll remember you can't think about his- Damn it!_

* * *

TBC. 

I suspect Barbsy generally takes pains to hide any and all reminders of his career's early stages - especially reminders of failure. (Screwing up some baddity to the point of getting caught and punished for it is probably high on the failure scale for him.) I bet this puts an end to the unusual chumminess he's allowed to develop between him and Will lately.

So they didn't make it to the Fountain of Youth. Apologies. However... while my definition of sex appeal is apparently older and crustier than most people's, I agree that "Geriatric Pirates of the Caribbean" would just not be cool. So I can promise there's no Depends, walker, or bingo in Barbossa's future. ("Did you load this pistol, Jack?" and senile Jack can't remember, so Barbsy holds it up to his legally-blind eye to squint into it, and his hands are shaking... yeah somebody is totally going to get their eye shot out.)

Sorry for the ramble.

There'll be a very very brief update tomorrow, just so I don't leave with 13 chapters posted.


	14. Norrington waits

A/N:

fyi I just updated yesterday, so dont skip that one.

Teensy tiny update, just because I hate to go away for the weekend leaving 13 chapters up. Gibbs would probably say "s'bad luck."

* * *

Surviving the wave gave everyone a kind of euphoric rush. After it faded, though, the ship got pretty gloomy pretty fast. 

They had failed. They had not made it through the rocks that guarded their destination, and now that they had lost a mast there was no chance they could try again this trip. Worse, they still owed Tia Dalma just the same for her help; if they wanted to get Elizabeth's daughter back they were still going to have to persuade (or, more likely, kidnap) Davy Jones as they had promised. Worse still, before they could even _try _that, they were going to have to thread their way back through the field of whirlpools with a crippled ship.

The captains' mood would not have been improved by the knowledge that a very moody, very armed James Norrington waited on the other side for them...

* * *

TBC. 

Figure an update Monday or Tuesday. Talk to me in the meantime!

**GeorgieFain: **Thanks! I used to love Bloody Friend Norrington too, but I wrote it a long time ago and lately when I read it I notice places it doesn't flow or awkward phrases and I keep thinking "ugh that could be better..." After this story is done, I might go back over that one and polish it up some. Even though I feel like that's cheating somehow.


	15. Barbossa throws a sword

A/N: Much of this was typed in an airport after I missed a connecting flight. Apologies for any typos brought on by blinding rage...

* * *

Day was just breaking when the _Pearl _at last pulled out of the whirlpools back into open water. Jack and Will were still on duty, exhausted after a night spent forcing the damaged ship through a series of hairpin turns that would have been difficult under even the best of conditions. Will opened the spyglass for one last look before they handed command over to Barbossa and Elizabeth…

"Oh, no. Jack…"

Jack took a peek and deemed it wise to go wake his partner up immediately.

Barbossa was, again, curled up next to Elizabeth when Jack tiptoed into the cabin. "Some day Will's going to come in instead of me," Jack warned as he nudged them awake. "Oh, and by the by… there's sortofaNavyshipwithhergunsoutcomingforus."

Elizabeth blinked the sleep out of her eyes. "What?"

Barbossa sat up at once – he'd had enough practice decoding Jack's nervous mumbling to understand right away. "Nobody comes out here by accident," he mused as he got out of bed and cracked his back, refusing to appear worried. "How'd they know we be here?"

"Looks like Tia Dalma double-crossed us again, mate. After all, nobody'd know where to find us except her."

Elizabeth was fumbling around for a hairbrush, but still managed to get her two cents in: "Her and that pirate whose ship you almost rammed."

"Aha." Jack nodded at her. "Clever girl, I'd forgotten him. Well. That's now two very black marks on that fellow's record… if His Highness harasses us just once more I'm afraid there will be very severe-"

"Important thing now's the battle," Barbossa interrupted, throwing on his sword belt. "Revenge comes later."

At that moment the door flew open. "You're never going to believe this." Will sounded like he hardly believed it himself. "Take a look. It's _Norrington_."

As they all rushed by him to see for themselves, Will noticed a red mark on the back of Elizabeth's neck that looked suspiciously like the imprint Barbossa's pendant might leave if it had been squished against her all night. He managed to restrain himself almost completely: all he did was catch her by the arm and ask, "Sleep well?"

"No, actually, I did not." She shook free and explained: "He won't take the floor. He kicks. And he _arrrr_'s in his sleep. I've had just about enough, so if you want to switch, I'll gladly go with Jack next time."

Will thought about it. "No – Jack won't take the floor either, and his hands don't stay put in his sleep at all, and the things he mumbles ought never be heard by a married woman. I've had to start taking the floor myself, to get away from it."

They headed out on deck, holding hands. "Well, now that we've hit open water maybe they'll both sleep at the same time again, and then they can share with each other and you and I can- Will?"

"Hmm?" They had both stopped looking at each other and turned their attention to the approaching Navy ship.

"Much as Jack's wandering hands disturb me, I think we've got bigger problems right now."

Will went to see the captains for orders, and Elizabeth went to wake up her son – he should, she reasoned, at least get to say goodbye to his parents before they got themselves killed.

* * *

Barbossa began by smacking Jack in the back of the head. "Remember all those times when I warned ye not to play around with that peacock?" he growled. "Now he'll be watchin for all me favorites. What do we do to surprise him?" 

"We could always let the whelp plan strategy for us," Jack suggested, nodding in Will's direction. "That would certainly be a surprise for everyone. Or, alternately, you could pull your head out of your- ahem – and realize that none of your favorites will work anyway!" He gestured in frustration to where the mast should be, but couldn't bring himself to look. "Fancy-pantsy maneuvers are just not on the menu this morning, mate," he reminded with something of a forced smile. "Think of something else."

In the end, it was not the whelp but the whelp's whelp who produced the idea that would save them. Barbossa was snarling something about the impossibility of outrunning Norrington with an inferior ship and Willie suddenly remembered: "Prince."

"Pardon?" Jack asked absently.

"Listen! His ship was inferior to yours, he said so himself... and yet he stopped you from sailing rings around him by attaching the ships together and-"

"That could work," Barbossa said to Jack. "What d'ye think?"

"It would take away Norrington's speed advantage," Jack agreed. "And it would make it quite dangerous for him to fire on us, considering what could happen to his own ship if we sink. I like it."

Will remembered that they had a whole mess of long chains with spears and hooks on them. "They were built to hold the Kraken," he pointed out, "So I'm sure they're more than strong enough for this. Set up that ridiculous slingshot Jack invented, and we'll fire them over as soon as Norrington's in range."

Barbossa went off to rally the crew for hand-to-hand combat. Willie watched him go and then complained to his father, "You'd think he'd at least have said _good thinking _to me."

"He walked by you without making wild-animal noises," Will pointed out on the way down to the hold. "In his world, that _is _a compliment. Now, help me set these chains up. And then hide. Aside from the question of danger, we're going to be killing a lot of very nice people today and it's nothing you need to be part of."

* * *

Elizabeth agreed with her husband about Willie not being allowed to fight. When Willie tried to get the captain to overrule them, he got a whack and a brief but noisy lecture regarding young people and respect. He also got locked in the brig. 

"You said to stay put." Willie sounded almost accusing. "So I will. There's no need to lock me up - I'd never disobey you."

Barbossa gave him a Look through the bars. "Please tell me I've taught ye better'n that."

"All right - of course you have, and besides I'm fifteen and I disobey everybody," Willie admitted. "I'm just saying whatever I can think of to get this door unlocked. Please, Captain, let me fight - please?"

There was the _boom _of cannonfire, and Barbossa saw the boy flinch. "No," he said shortly, "Last time I let you fight you got in me way and I got killed. Here - take this." He handed over one of his pistols and went upstairs, feeling mildly guilty about leaving Willie alone and trapped on a ship that might well sink or be overrun. _Do your job, Hector, and it won't be a problem, _he reminded himself, and felt better. Damaged or not, this was the _Pearl _and that was the peacock and it should be no problem at all.

* * *

Norrington's response to the trick was much the same as Jack and Barbossa's had been. "Gilette! Make sure we don't pull away," he barked. "Those ridiculous hooks will probably rip out chunks of our hull and I've no intention of shredding my ship for these two." 

"Aye aye, sir," Gilette answered. "Shall we prepare to fight hand to hand, or shall we try and talk them out of it?"

Norrington drew his sword, mainly for the sound it produced. "The day we are afraid to tangle with those pirates is the day I put my pistol in my mouth," he said through gritted teeth. "Forget their ship - it's in pieces anyhow. Prepare to board!"

His soldiers scurried around in confusion, most of them having little experience boarding ships. Before they had even sorted out which grappling hooks belonged to who, Gilette called, "Too late, sir - _they're_ boarding _us_!"

"Repel the ones you can," Norrington ordered, "And kill the rest! You - go down and fetch up all the gunners. Forget the cannons; it's all hands on deck and we end this right now while they can't get away from us!"

Gilette detected a trace of unhealthy mania in his captain's voice, but not enough to justify stepping in to second-guess him.

* * *

Some of Norrington's soldiers who hadn't gotten the change of message in time had already swung over to the _Pearl, _and Barbossa was right there alongside his men butchering them. That alone made Will uneasy, but when Barbossa snatched a rope to swing into the melee over on Norrington's ship, Will grabbed at his arm. "Don't," he said quietly. "You're good but you're not superhuman. Anymore," he amended. "People your age don't survive fights like that." 

Barbossa shook him off. "_Pirates _me age don't survive by bein cowards," he countered, "And anyhow nobody asked your advice. We have to do this fast; the ship can't take much more of this creakin." He went over before Will could argue further.

The captain hacked his way towards Norrington and at first it was going well - old or not he was still such an exceptionally effective swordsman that several of the younger soldiers elected to jump overboard rather than cross blades with him when he came through.

The problem arose when he heard someone swing over from the _Pearl _screaming "Likilikilikiiiii" at the top of his lungs. To Barbossa's knowledge there was nobody who behaved that way save Jack's band of cannibals... and Willie, who had learned it from them and never quite gotten out of the habit. He looked over his shoulder to confirm, and saw that not only was Willie over here fighting, he was fighting two at once and not at all up to the task.

Barbossa hurled his cutlass across the deck. Without even noticing he'd shifted his grip down and it was a perfect throw, sinking deep into the chest of the one Willie was struggling with.

While he wasn't looking, though, a gun went off not three feet behind him. He whipped around, half-expecting to discover he'd been shot to death, but as it turned out a lucky push from somewhere had thrown the soldier so off-balance he'd missed even at such a close range. Swordless now and sick with the realization of what had almost just happened, Barbossa snatched the pistol from him and battered him with it until he collapsed.

Afterwards he looked around for Norrington again, fighting through the crowd with a dagger and the pistol butt until he heard Willie's voice from just behind him. "Here!" The boy was offering him his sword back, looking quite green. "Thank you."

Barbossa pointed at him and just said, "Trouble beyond imaginin."

"I know. I knew the moment I recognized the sword. Captain - Norrington's over there. Go on, I'll cover your back."

"I cover me own back, you brainless infant!" Barbossa snarled as he turned away. "And you'd best start coverin yours!"

Still, Willie followed him, helping keep people off him as he forced his way over to Norrington and demanded to negotiate.

Norrington preferred to try and kill him, so they compromised: they fought and talked at the same time. "Who sent you?" Barbossa shouted.

"Jones's orders," Norrington answered over the clash of steel. "What happened to your ship?"

"Rough seas, ne'er you mind. Where's Jones?"

"How- the devil- should I know?" Norrington grunted in between parries. "He wants you alive."

"Then why... the blazes are you- _ahrr - _tryin to kill me?"

"You boarded!" Norrington took one second too long to stare proudly at the cut he had opened up across the pirate's chest, and found himself disarmed.

Barbossa had him down in a second, sword blade pressed across his throat. "_You_ started it. Now you'd best surrender, or..." He didn't finish the sentence.

"Or what?" Norrington spat. "Or you'll kill my men? You're trying to do that anyway."

"Surrender now, and you have me word there be no executions. I'll even let Elizabeth negotiate terms with you instead of me." He drew his blade across with just enough force to draw blood. "Well?"

Norrington turned his head as far as he could and closed his eyes, trying to think clearly. "She's as bad as you," he choked out finally. "Let me talk to Will. And no one else is to be killed."

Barbossa rose and wiped his cutlass off. "Agreed."

* * *

TBC. 

Next chapter we get to see Barbie at his coldest, and Beckett at his sleaziest, and Davy... at his... um... tentacliest?

I'm going away AGAIN this weekend, but I'll update Thursday before I go.

**Captain Uschi:** Yeah, about Gibbs... (looks somewhat guilty) Not everybody can have had a happy ending. We'll hear about him soon.

**GeorgieFain:** I'm going to email you - otherwise the authornote will end up being as long as the chapter itself here, and that's goofy.


	16. Beckett does some thinking

As soon as the fighting was stopped, Barbossa ordered Norrington into his cabin, then hurriedly explained to Will what he was supposed to get from the parlay. Then he said, "There be one little thing more we ought discuss in private: your son."

"I heard. Apparently he got a pistol from somewhere and shot the lock off the brig. He came over to fight, against your - and my - direct orders."

Barbossa mentally gave the boy points for his ingenuity and daring, but all he said aloud was, "I'll be settin him straight and I don't want you to interfere."

"Captain..." Will ran a hand through his hair. "For once I'm almost in agreement with you - Willie was certainly out of line and if you didn't do something about it I would - but the problem is, I know you think it's funny to permanently mutilate people, and since I intend for my son to have a life after piracy, you need to promise me I don't have to worry about brands or knives or anything like that. Promise that, and then I swear I'll keep my mouth shut."

Instead of promising, Barbossa just told him, "Boy needs to learn a little discipline, Will. It'll be fine." Will seemed about to argue, so the captain made eye contact and spoke the magic words guaranteed to make honest people ignore their better judgment: "Trust me."

There was a pause and then Will nodded.

* * *

"I don't know what _you're _doing here," Norrington snapped. "We had a deal." 

"I be here in a strictly advisory capacity," Barbossa said primly. "Sit."

Will settled in opposite Norrington and leaned back in his chair, relaxed because although he found the pirates' methods as repulsive as ever, he felt there was nothing too objectionable in their demands this time. "We didn't come here looking for a fight," he began.

"Yes, yes, I know, everything in the whole wide world is my fault entirely," Norrington said irritably. "Just tell me what you want."

"Your ship. Ours is broken, and we need to sail someplace."

"My..." Norrington blinked. "I see. And will that be all, or do you think there's anything _else _you can wring-"

"As a matter of fact it's not all. Not only do we need to borrow your ship," Will said over him, "But in the meantime, we need you to take some of your crew and bring the _Pearl _in somewhere for repairs. When you return her to us in good condition, you can have your ship back... as well as the hostages."

"Hostages?"

"We'll want a few of your lieutenants," Will explained coolly. "Preferably personal friends of yours or men with families so we can be sure you won't take their lives lightly."

"I..." Norrington looked over Will's shoulder to Barbossa. "This is absurd. Even for you."

Will slapped the table. "Pay attention. That is the only offer we're prepared to make, and frankly, Norrington, I think it's a fair one. All you need to say is yes or no."

"What if I say no?" Norrington dearly wished he had Gilette in here to help him think this through. "Your captain has already promised me nobody else will die."

Will looked over his shoulder. "Is that true? That doesn't sound like you at all."

"Mmm..." Barbossa squinted up at the ceiling. "S'not quite exactly what I promised. I did agree there be no _executions_." He looked Norrington in the eye and explained, "But I don't recall sayin nothin about _suicides_."

"Suicides?" Norrington repeated blankly.

"Let me show ye somethin taught me by a very dear friend recently." Barbossa stepped swiftly around to Norrington's side of the table and drew his knife. "Don't worry, I'm just showin - there be no blood as yet. Put your hand here on the table."

* * *

Barbossa had improved on the spiel he'd heard from Prince, and by the time he was done Norrington was gagging and shuddering openly. "So," ran the end, "After your men hear all that, it's to be expected they might care to borrow a sip or two from me poison collection." 

Will sighed. "Which he, being the kind and gentle soul that he is, would gladly supply. Norrington, honestly - let's not do it that way."

"Consider you people are pirates with no honor, what guarantee do I have that you'll play fair? If you've got hostages, I want one too."

Will looked up to Barbossa for permission and got a slow nod. "All right," he told Norrington, "You can have a hostage."

"Not just one of the crew," Norrington pressed. "You don't seem to care much about them at all. What happened to all your old sailors, incidentally? I haven't seen Gibbs around nor that man with the wooden eye nor-"

"Glass," Barbossa interrupted. "The idiot finally got a glass eye." He looked away. "We lost about half our crew to Davy a few years ago, and since then we've been hirin men who're strictly replacable."

"Oh. I'm, er, sorry."

"S'all right. Anyway I already have a hostage in mind." He bent to whisper into Will's ear and then left the cabin.

"Wait-" Will tried to call after him but it was no good. He drummed his fingers on the table hard, folded his hands, bit his lip.

"Well? What?" Norrington snapped at last. "He wants me to take _you _on as hostage?"

Will shook his head.

* * *

When Barbossa came outside Willie was sitting on the floor waiting for him. "Captain, listen." He jumped up. "I know you didn't want me over here but I-" 

"Nothin to discuss. I handled it."

"Handled?" Willie repeated.

Barbossa finally looked at him. "I gave you to Norrington," he said bluntly. "Not as a prisoner, but as crew - you'll go with him and sail under his orders. You're a Navy boy now." He turned to cross back to the _Pearl _and was halfway across the deck before Willie pulled himself together enough to give chase.

"_What!?_ Captain- _No_." He tried to grab his arm but the captain shrugged him off. "Please, no, please, you can't do that to me." He realized he was about to cry and was horrified because he knew if he did that then Barbossa would _really _never want anything more to do with him. He tried to take a breath and calm down before continuing, "Look, Captain, please, I'm sorry, I understand I made a mistake, I know you're angry, do whatever you have to do but please don't throw me off the ship, I'll do anything, look, please-"

The second time his arm was grabbed Barbossa whirled on the boy and let him have it. "First! If you'll _do anything_, then why not start with goin where I tell you! Second, of course I'm angry - you disobeyed me! Which I can live with every now and again if it's done right, but _you _had to go and damage me ship - what if I had to lock somebody up in that brig today, boy, hmm? - _and _you almost got yourself and, worse, _me,_ killed! Again!"

All Willie could do was shake his head and whisper, "Please don't."

"I have to! I can't let you stay after what you did; even if the crew could live with it I never could. That's not how I run me ship." He paused a moment and noticed that Willie was no longer arguing with him. "Willie, look at me." When he saw the strange facial contortions Willie had resorted to in order to not cry, he dropped some of the edge from his voice. "It's not forever. I'll take ye back, I promise, but first you have to get used to obeyin orders - even when you don't like 'em."

_I'll take ye back._ It was all Willie cared to hear. "How long?"

"Depends how long it takes to drag Davy to Tia's place and sort out another way to that cursed fountain we were lookin for." Barbossa narrowed his eyes. "It'll be a tough time... Y'ave no idea how annoyed I am to lose one of the few people I can trust 'round here. I hope that peacock works you to exhaustion and beats you every day. In fact, I think I'll tell him he'd better."

He didn't seem to be joking, and even through all his hurt Willie started to feel nervous. "Um... Captain, how bad is it really on a Navy ship?"

"You'll find out soon enough. I assure you you _will _miss sailin with pirates. Listen: do what you're told, be it stupid or not, and don't ask questions nor answer any."

"I won't say a word," Willie promised.

"We're tradin ships, did you know that? It'll be the first time I've let the _Pearl _out of me sight in a while. What I mean is..."

"And I won't let anything at all happen to your ship, sir." Willie was proud of the way he had gotten himself mostly under control. "Anything else?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "So _now _the kid turns obedient," he muttered. "D'you have a knife?"

"No. I lost it when I was, you know... fighting."

"Then here. Keep it handy - twould not suprise me to learn a pirate boy's not what you'd call popular with those dogs. Good luck. And remember, however miserable it be and whatever happens to ye over there..." He grabbed Willie by the collar and hauled him close to snarl at close range: "You deserve it and more."

* * *

Governor Beckett was torn. His instinct said that Norrington was a failure whose nerves could not be trusted. On the other hand, though, _if_ Norrington came through for him, _if _his plan worked out, then he would be free of Davy Jones forever and would have the _Black Pearl _comfortably under control for the rest of his life. 

It was tempting to just have a little faith. Was it such a stretch? It _might _all go according to plan: the pirates _might _negotiate rather than destroy when they recognized their old friend-slash-victim Norrington, Norrington _might _be able to bury the hatchett long enough to cut a deal with them, Jack Sparrow _might _be able to find out from his old friends on the _Dutchman_ where Jones had hidden the chest this time, and Jones _might _not know that for four years now he'd been carrying around a fake key, a duplicate. Beckett _might _get to the chest and, having learned from his past mistakes, would kill Jones without a second's hestiation. In return Sparrow would give up his compass, an all-around useful little toy, and just before they parted ways Beckett would remind the pirates that so long as he remained Governor he held the lives of Elizabeth and her family in his hands.

So, instead of being the slave of a disgusting fish-person, Beckett would instead be in the clear and would even have some pirates for slaves of his own. It _might _work.

Might.

Beckett let himself daydream about it for a while, but he knew deep down that his decision was already made. Yes, it _might _work. But he hadn't gotten where he was today by confusing _desirable _with _likely_. Norrington standing up and taking a risk? Jack Sparrow making deals and sticking to them? Barbossa caring about someone else's wife enough to take orders? Ha.

A change of plans was in order.

Beckett put to sea, rehearsing his explanation night and day to make it sound natural enough to fool Davy Jones. "At the time I _believed _him," he whined piteously to himself. "Norrington is an accomplished liar. It was only after he'd gone, when I spoke to his wife, that I realized he means to double-cross me - and you. Of course I came to you the minute I figured it out. No-" he interrupted himself, "Too defensive. Try it again, Cutler."

He drew himself up and started the last bit over. "...means to double-cross me - and you. I thought you'd want to know immediately." A mocking smile had appeared all on its own, and Beckett nodded into the mirror. "Better. Even say, _I'm sorry I didn't pick it up sooner_."

Beckett intended to sell Norrington out and hopefully get himself invited onto the _Dutchman, _where he had a chance to poke around firsthand for information about the chest.

He didn't consider himself overly optimistic, but just in case things worked out and he somehow got a crack at the chest after all, he brought Jones's key with him.

* * *

Jack and Barbossa watched Norrington sail away on their ship, not moving or speaking until (what remained of) the beloved black sails had passed from view. 

Once it was gone they got down to business. "I hate to leave her, mate. D'you really think she'll be all right?"

"Aye," Barbossa said with certainty. "Willie'll see that she's returned to us safe and sound, if it costs him his very life and soul."

Jack's eyebrows went up. "Dare I ask how you got him to swear that?"

"Leverage," Barbossa answered proudly, "Just like you're always tellin me. I said that after what he'd done I had to throw him out... but maybe I'd think of takin him back someday... and oh, I'm awful worried about me ship in the meantime..."

Jack covered his face with his hands and laughed into them. "That's just terrible, mate. And I expect he was too broken-hearted to even remind you that it was _your _pistol what let him out in the first place... The boy would crawl over broken glass for you. Oh- and speaking of... are you hurt much?"

Barbossa threw him a look and only then noticed how pale he was... and that he was leaning on the railing pretty heavily. "Naught but this scratch. And you? How bad is it?"

Jack shrugged. "Lost some blood. I'm hallucinating a little."

"Y'always be hallucinatin a little. Show me."

Jack opened his coat and pulled up his shirt and Barbossa almost strangled him on the spot. "You are sliced open from waist to armpit, idiot! You should've spoken up straight away. You know you need a- Jack!" he gasped. "All our tools are in our room!"

"No - I threw all the transfusion stuff in a box and brought it over from the _Pearl _with us," Jack explained. "Sort of figured it might come to this. I don't feel so good."

Barbossa was already heading for the cabin, rolling his sleeve up as he went. "Elizabeth!" he bellowed. "Get in here!"

As soon as she appeared, Barbossa started showering her with orders. "First, bind Jack's wound up tight so's it doesn't all just leak out again. Then get that box from over by the door – everything we need's in there." While she tried to stop the bleeding, Barbossa lit a lamp and sat flexing his hand til he was sure he could see where to pierce.

Elizabeth winced at the scars that dotted his forearm - some of them bigger than others.

"Aye," he said, following her gaze, "It took a couple tries for us to get it right, but now we can share blood without much mess. Jack – ready?"

"Mmm." Jack pushed up his sleeve and unclenched his fist. "Right, go."

Elizabeth handed Barbossa tools when he asked for them and tried not to ask stupid questions like _Are you sure this isn't going to just kill the both of you?_

Barbossa found the whole procedure much less nerve-wracking if he talked while he worked, so he answered Elizabeth's unspoken question. "First time we did it without your doctor friend, we were both healthy. Idea was, we could afford to bleed a little if we didn't get it right."

"My idea," Jack put in.

"Aye, and for a change, twas a good one. If we'd been injured to start we'd never have made it – as it was the both of us near bled to death."

"We're lots better at it now," Jack promised. He meant to reassure her with a pat on the arm, but the bloody handprint it left made it somewhat less than encouraging.

* * *

TBC. 

Like I said, I'm going away this weekend but will try my very best to update while I'm gone. Pretty please review for me in the meantime!

I'm sorry we didn't see Davy yet. We're about to.


	17. Davy is told the truth

On the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, Beckett finished looking and handed the spyglass back to Davy. "Yes - that's Norrington's ship," he said calmly. He did not add, _although it's not Norrington's crew. Their uniforms don't fit and several of them are missing limbs and they're a good deal scruffier than even Norrington would tolerate. _

Beckett was sure it would be in his best interest to participate directly in whatever took place, but was equally sure that going over to a ship that had clearly been taken over by pirates was not a good idea. "I can't come if you travel by telescope," he complained. "Let's row over instead." He knew perfectly well that it would be impossible - the _Dutchman_'s boats were crusted to the deck with decades' worth of barnacles.

So, as Beckett had hoped, Davy invited Norrington over to the _Dutchman _to discuss the killing of some pirates in person.

* * *

When the invitation for Norrington came over, everyone aboard the ship was a bit worried because Norrington was not in fact on the ship at all. Gilette was left on deck to stall the fishy messenger while Jack and Will and Elizabeth worked out what to do. 

Barbossa was not much help in planning - he was passed out cold on the bed and could not be awoken even by Jack's attempts to tickle him.

"Is there anything we can do?" Elizabeth asked, worried more about Barbossa than about the _Dutchman _waiting beside them.

"He's fine," Jack insisted. "Last time I bled him like this he didn't get up for a few days either. He just needs to sleep it off. I suppose it's best to leave him here while we go talk to Davy, and then afterwards we'll come back for him. I have a plan, darling. I promise. Honestly."

Elizabeth wasn't quite ready to take Jack's word on this, so she stretched out on the bed next to Barbossa and leaned over him. "Wake up," she whispered into his ear. "Captain, please, it's Elizabeth and this is important. Wake up."

His eyes opened slowly. "Hmm?"

"Jack has a plan. He won't tell us what it is. It involves _leaving you here. _What do you think?"

Barbossa blinked and then looked to Will. "Very well," he said at last, each word an effort. "I spose the boy ought to be able to take care of you by himself, for a change."

"Oh, very funny," she hissed, but Jack tapped her on the shoulder.

"What he means is, don't worry about him," Jack translated. "Now come on. If he can't get up, he won't like to stay out here in the open, so I'll find a safer place to stash him. In the meantime you need to go put the fear of God and Elizabeth into our dear friend Gilette. Tell him we're going to go with him to see Davy, and he'd better do as we say." He hauled Barbossa into a sitting position and pulled the bandaged arm over his shoulders. "Let's go, mate, up. You've got to get up, cmon."

"Shh," Barbossa mumbled. "Quiet, the lot o'ya, I'm sleepin." He stood, with a lot of help, and let Jack drag him out of the room.

* * *

Once Barbossa had been hidden away, a boatload of pirates in Navy uniforms, including Jack and Will and Elizabeth, rowed over to the _Dutchman_ as Gilette's escort. Gilette explained straight away that Norrington had been killed battling the _Pearl_. "We took a few pirates prisoner, though," he added. "They bite when my men get too close to the bars, but if you're willing to go fetch them yourself, you're welcome to the whole lot." 

Davy figured it could never hurt to have a few more pirates to bargain with, so he sent some of his more trusted fishpeople to pick them up.

Jack blew his wig out of his eyes and looked around to size up the _Dutchman_'s crew. Davy had gotten greedy last time they'd fought, and had taken on far too many more of the _Pearl_'s sailors than was practical. Now that he'd sent away half a dozen of his loyal henchmen, a mutiny might almost be possible. Not quite yet, though. Some more fishies still had to be got rid of.

Jack suddenly decided on a wild gamble: he took one step forward and ripped off his wig. "'Ello there, Squidsy!" Davy whirled to face him straight on and everyone else took a step away, to get out of the crossfire. "It's me, mate - Jack Sparrow! And guess what? I've got your key!"

"What!?" Davy's first move had been to reach for Jack's throat, but at that cheerful declaration he paused - his first priority was to check that the key was still safe in his beard.

"Yep, that one you're carrying is just a decoy," Jack invented, hoping to scare Davy into taking it out all the way to examine it closely. He thought perhaps he might tackle him, grab the key, and throw it overboard. That would probably clear the deck of fishpeople instantly - Davy would panic and send them all into the water to go retrieve his precious.

But before he got any farther, Beckett gasped "How did you-" before managing to shut himself up.

Jack stared at him in amazement. "Whoa! You mean you _actually _stole the key?"

While Beckett wondered desperately what to say, Will realized that killing him might well deprive Davy Jones of his precious key forever. Before he could tell himself to be civilized and resist, he broke rank from the rest of the disguised pirates, dove at Beckett, and pushed him over the railing.

"Oh dear," Will said happily, staring down over the side, "There goes your key, Davy. Now _nobody _knows where it is."

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. "Oh, that's very mature of you, Will. Not to mention, Cutler is in fact a human being, who you just-"

By this time Davy had taken a close look at the key in his beard and realized that it was indeed a fake. He screeched for his men to dive over and fetch back the real key intact - and Beckett in pieces.

Once several more fish-people dove over, Jack looked around and decided that the odds were finally in his favor. There were a few unfriendly sharky-looking sailors still, but the bulk of the _Dutchman_'s deckhands who were left were people who Jack had once known very well. He recognized Gibbs, covered though he was with seaweed and coral. He recognized Three-Eye-Half-Brain, even though the glass eye had been replaced by a little anemone and the both of them had funny rocky growths all over their faces. He drew a pistol. "All right - everybody pay attention," he called loudly. "Some of you may remember me; I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. We used to sail together. Now please stay calm." Jack ignored the incredulous looks that both his enemies and his allies were shooting him. "I am taking over this ship, and you are all going to help me."

* * *

Hijacking the _Flying Dutchman _turned out to be surprisingly easy. Gibbs and Cotton (and his parrot, which had sprouted fins) were game straight away. A gun to Ragetti's head had Pintel ready to cooperate and to force the cooperation of the two or three new friends he had made in his time aboard the ship. A few fish-people had to be killed, but most of the _Dutchman_'s crew didn't care one way or another who ordered them around. 

The only one to put up _real _resistance was Davy, but the pirates mobbed him en masse and forced him into the organ room and locked the door. Someone had to keep an eye on him, so when Will wasn't looking, Jack had them lock Elizabeth in too.

"What is the meaning of this?" Davy spat as soon as they were alone.

He was shaking her awfully hard and he smelled even more terrible than she remembered. She fought free. "Do you really think Jack's come clean with me?" she hissed. "Now I promise we mean you no harm and I'll tell you everything I know, but you have to keep your hands - and your everything else - to yourself! This is already a crisis in the making, and if harm comes to me it will only get worse for everyone."

"What. Is. Going. On," he raged one word at a time, hands off her as requested.

"We are taking you to Tia Dalma. She did a favor for us and in return she wanted..." Elizabeth fell silent as his whole face changed.

All his tentacles went still, hanging straight and limp over his shoulders. The furious creases in his brow disappeared as his eyes grew wide and his mouth opened. "She wants to see me," he whispered.

"Well, yes." Elizabeth took a cautious step forward. "It's been what, sixteen years now since you've visited her? She's been trying to get Jack and Barbossa to come find you for a while." She didn't know that this was true, but it seemed the best way to calm him down. Stroking his arm didn't seem to hurt any either.

After a while he pulled away and turned his back. "What does she want with me now? She's already taken everything she cared to."

Elizabeth winced at the way his voice had hardened up. "We don't know," she began softly, then got a little tough herself. "But she has my daughter and won't return her until we've delivered you. Therefore you _are _going, whether you like it or not."

"I'll not be kidnapped and locked up on my very own ship!" He shoved at the door for a bit and Elizabeth bent to examine the lock, but she saw at once that her severely limited lockpicking experience would not be enough.

"I think you and I are stuck in here for now," she said at last. She ordered her heart to stop pounding and summoned up her bossiest tone. "And you are going to behave yourself. This is not my fault and you are not to shout at me, threaten me, attack me, or otherwise detract from my well-being. Is that clear?"

He tossed his head at her and his beard came alive again. "And in return, I can look forward to what?"

Once upon a time, she remembered, she had kissed him... but now her stomach lurched at the very thought. This time she could not bargain with kisses. _Well, he DOES always say he wants to be told the truth, _she reminded herself. "Davy, your clothes are covered in fungus," she informed him briskly, "And you smell like an octopus that hasn't been bathed in forty years. If you're intending to make an impression on a lady, then someone is going to have to help make you presentable." She realized, to her amazement, that he wasn't going to argue with her. "You'll need a washrag and some water," she continued with authority. "And they must both be clean."

* * *

TBC. 

Yeah, a while ago I had a dream where a little Davy-looking boy was trying to get dressed up for his prom but none of the tuxes would fit him. It was kind of sad actually.

And sorry to abandon Barbie. I promise he can take care of himself - even if he's comatose at the moment hehe.

I'm home for a full week this time. Review for me and I'll post again Thursday.


	18. Annie knows some things

A/N: Because I'm trying to have this finished by the time AWE comes out, I've been cutting out bits that aren't necessary to the plot. However, when I'm done with this story I am totally posting a **Deleted Scenes **reel so we can all watch Elizabeth try and corrall Davy into a bathtub. For some reason I keep picturing her holding him down in a huge mess of pink bubbles, and he's coughing and choking and whining about getting soap in his "eyesss-uh."

Anyway...

* * *

Will's first clue that something was wrong was the sound of Davy Jones bellowing: "_YOU WON'T DARE!_" And Elizabeth's answering shriek: "_Won't I?_ I have two children and a husband who's little better than a child himself and this is not the first time I've done such a thing! Now let _go_!" 

"I will not!"

Will began to follow the argument across the deck down the hatch and to the door of the organ room. They were so loud that he could hear every word. "Davy Jones, you let go! Or by God I'll rip it!"

"And I'll rip you in turn! Get those hands off or I'll break them!" A loud crash.

"Ow! Davy, you beast, you promised you wouldn't hurt me!"

"And _you _promised you'd only- _ach_! No!"

"Aha! Got it!" The sounds of a chase. Will reached the door just as someone – Elizabeth, presumably – threw themselves against it from the other side and then stopped, cornered. "All right all right, stop- _aaah _ow Davy! I give up, all right, you can have it, here…" The scuffle died down. "There, see, I didn't hurt it. Look, I'll even fold it for you. It's a beautiful coat, I know, but it's ages and ages past its prime. All right? Here. Here's your coat. Put it aside, that's right, we'll find you a new one." A pause. "And now it's time to discuss your hat."

"The hat stays!"

"The hat stays? Are you mad? Look at it! Davy, come- no- oh, get _back _here!" Will hurried off to find the key and let them out before they killed each other.

Unfortunately, Jack pulled rank on him, and refused to open up the organ room for the entire trip to Tia Dalma's. He invented several ridiculous reasons for this, but the real one was his certainty that the moment he opened the door, Davy Jones would come charging out and clip his head right off with that claw of his. After all, he had _stolen _the _Flying Dutchman_. Could any pirate besides Jack Sparrow have thought of such a thing?!

And besides, judging by the crashes and shouts and pained squealing from both parties, Davy and Elizabeth seemed to be enjoying their alone-time just fine.

When they reached Tia's river, Jack decided to take Will ashore and leave the happy roommates locked up in the meantime. This way, he could convince the witch to accompany them to the ship, and when the organ room door finally opened Davy would be far too distracted by Tia Dalma to worry about eviscerating his dear old friend Jack Sparrow.

* * *

They found Tia and Annabelle waiting on the porch. While the little girl threw herself at Will screeching "Papaaaa!", Jack took Tia aside for something of an annoyed little chat. 

"Darling, we brought you what you asked for, but I have to say you weren't very square with us. Me an' Barbossa are not afraid of terrible odds, but it's not fair if the game is _rigged_. You should've come right out and said those rocks are impossible."

Tia stepped away from him and tossed her head back. "Dey are not impossible, Jack Sparrow. I myself ha' sailed dem, widout a scratch on de ship."

"You've actually _been _to the Fountain of Youth, have you?" Jack was pacing, restless, bumping his head on her hanging plants. "Then why on earth didn't you bring any of the bloody water back with you?"

"But I did. I still have it."

Jack froze. "What?" Tia didn't repeat it so he pressed her: "Tia? You're saying you've had water from the Fountain of Youth, _here_, with you, the entire time?"

"Aye," she said, leaning away a little. Raging pirates had best be treated with caution.

"No."

"Dere ever been a time when I've lied to ya, Jack?"

"But... if... Then why, _why _didn't you tell us?"

Tia smiled at him innocently. She thought it would sound a little unprofessional to admit that she'd forgotten. Cleaning house this week had turned up two little vials of it, under her bed, thrown in carelessly with her collection of sea-serpent blood. "You never asked," she pointed out.

Jack shook his head wearily and held out his hand. Tia showed him, but wouldn't hand the precious elixir over just yet. "Take me first to see Davy Jones," she ordered. "Den after _dat _debt all paid, I tink about making anotter deal wid ya."

A moment's reflection told Jack he was probably not going to do any better than that, so he nodded and ushered everybody into the boat.

They rowed back to the _Dutchman _and opened up the organ room and Jack ducked behind Will just in case.

Davy, as he'd hoped, had eyes only for Tia Dalma and ignored the pirates completely. Jack looked at him for a bit, registered that when scrubbed his skin was a greyish-greenish shade that wouldn't look bad if it hadn't been glistening with slime, but soon lost interest because Davy was just standing still and staring. Even his beard wasn't doing much, so Jack paid attention instead to the reunion between Annie and her mother.

"It was fun," Annie protested when Elizabeth tried to fuss over her. "I learned lots of things from Miss Tia."

"Learned things?" Elizabeth tried not to sound apprehensive. She knelt to straighten Annie's dress."That's wonderful. Maybe you can show me sometime."

"No I can't, Mama, I can only show people who are touched. So not you but I can show my sister – I think she is."

"Your sister?" Elizabeth repeated with a little smile. "Have we really been away so long? You've got a _brother, _sweetheart, not a sister."

"No, not Willie," Annie said impatiently. "I mean my _sister_. I do so have a sister." She hugged Elizabeth, ear to her stomach, and said, "I can hear her."

There was silence for a bit. Jack was the first to break it. "Dear little Annabelle," he said in the positively most charming voice he possessed. He crouched down to be eye level and took one of her small hands in both of his, "Do you mean to tell me that Tia's helped you with the second sight?"

Annie nodded proudly. "I know lots of things," she declared. "Oh! Papa I found out something for you, too!" She pulled away from Jack and tugged on Will's pant leg. "You know that nasty pirate who was fighting with you?"

"I'm afraid I do." Will wasn't sure he needed to hear any more secrets regarding Captain Barbossa; the last one he had stumbled upon had made it awkward between them for days. "What about him?"

"I don't like him. And I found out you don't have to listen to anything he says, ever - because he is a _big _baby!"

"A what?" Jack put in, eager for any gossip he could use to annoy Barbossa even more than usual.

"Willie says," she explained, "That only _big babies _need to crawl into Mama's bed when they have a bad dream. And I found out, _he _does it all the time!"

Will found it funny at the moment that Annabelle could pull tidbits like that out of thin air, but he didn't think he would like her having visions of what went on in Elizabeth's bed once they got home. He turned to Tia Dalma and nudged her. "Is there any way to stop this?"

Tia broke off the minutes-long staring contest she'd been having with Davy to answer: "Doan worry - widout da drink I give her she won't see no'ting." She turned back to her ex-lover and crossed her arms. "You got about ten mar seconds to say some'ting, Davy, before I lose all me patience."

"Calypso," he whispered at last, but could get no further. Elizabeth put her daughter down and edged around behind Tia Dalma where the witch wouldn't see her. With a series of gestures, she ordered Davy to speak up. He tried: "I... I want to talk to you..."

"It seems you doan making a good job of it," Tia laughed.

Davy looked over her shoulder to Elizabeth and tried to interpret the pantomimes. "Please? No- I mean: I'm sorry. I'm sorry to see- No, that's... I'm sorry... oh! Ach, I'm sorry I haven't come to see you lately," he translated triumphantly. "There. And I... err... ah! I miss you?"

Tia finally turned around and saw where the garbled message was coming from. "Davy, what's said wid us be best said alone, I tink," she suggested. She swept away into the organ room and Davy followed her, looking bewildered and terrified.

Jack leaped to lock the door behind them. "There!" he chirped, "Now didn't that work out!" He took out his compass and went up on deck. It was time to find his ship and find his partner and pry that youth-juice away from Tia Dalma, and then everything would be just peachy.

* * *

His partner, in the meantime, was woozy but finally awake, and was serving on Norrington's former ship in the queer capacity of advisor-slash-prisoner-slash-executioner, helping Gilette keep his hopelessly diverse crew in line. 

Some people on the ship belonged to the Navy crew who had set sail with Norrington in the first place. Others were pirates, who had come over with Jack and Barbossa when Norrington traded ships with them. Still others were loyal fish-people whose sole desire was to be returned to the _Dutchman _and her poor kidnapped captain. The remaining three or four men were sketchy individuals who had been a part of Governor Beckett's private entourage. When he was flung overboard, his henchmen had dived in after him rather than remain alone with pirates on the hijacked _Flying Dutchman._

This squabbling rabble was kept in check by Gilette's level-headed leadership - and Barbossa's habit of chucking people over the railing when they disobeyed. (The fact that he was so dizzy he sometimes threw up on them first actually _heightened_ the fear with which the survivors regarded him.)

Of course, Barbossa had to perform these chores while handcuffed - he and Governor Beckett were deemed too dangerous to be left at liberty. This was all right with both of them - Barbossa was still weak and Beckett had dislocated his shoulder hitting the water, and as they both had plenty of enemies on the ship, they counted a constant escort of armed soldiers to be a good thing for the moment.

Barbossa and Gilette put their heads together and decided that making for the shipyard where Norrington had taken the _Pearl _would be the best way to sort out the mess quickly. Jack, they predicted, would also be sailing towards the _Pearl _as soon as he could. They would then have all three ships and all three crews in the same place, and could efficiently return everyone to their proper places.

_At which point, _Gilette thought to himself_, Considering Beckett is allied with both Norrington and Jones, we will gang up on your ship and hang you all._

_At which point, _Barbossa thought at the same time,_ Just before I leave, I'll fire the powder and blow up your ship, just to pay back that pompous peacock for losin me me necklace. Of all the cursed places to slash at..._

His hand went to his chest where the pendant should be, and he traced thoughtfully over the scabbed-up cut Norrington had given him before shaking Gilette's hand. "Agreed," he purred with a wide sinister smile. "I'll see that these dogs do as ye command, and you'll bring us safe to that shipyard. Full sail, aye?"

Gilette couldn't quite match his smirk, but he tried. "Aye. Full sail."

* * *

TBC.

So no party to end this story with - instead we get a showdown at a shipyard. It'll be cool, I swear.

We'll get some Willie next chapter. And some very unsportsmanlike Norrington... followed by appropriate levels of inebriation and self-loathing, of course, because he's not really a bad guy at heart... I think I've decided what happens to him in the end.

Uberawesome things are planned. Hopefully update will be tomorrow or Saturday. Leave me love in the meantime! And if there's anything else you want to see, speak now...


	19. Tia names some terms

A/N: Two things: B/E shippers, rejoice – they finally get time alone this chapter. W/J shippers, if there is such a thing… heh heh, read on…

And apparently I am a romantic where Tia and Davy are concerned. I am also very, very glad Tia Dalma has never fallen in love with _me_...

* * *

Barbossa was leaning against the wall of the brig when Will came down. "About time, Turner," he said disgustedly. 

Will grinned at him. He was trying to keep the words _big baby _safely squashed down alongside _scars _and _Elizabeth__'s pillow _and all the other things he didn't really want to think about, but it was tough. "Let it be – we came back for you as fast as we could." As he looked for something to leverage the door with, he recounted quickly: "Things are going fine – we picked up Tia and Annie, and now we've picked up you, and all we have to do is get the _Pearl _back from Norrington, and then everything's all settled."

"Save for we still got no idea how to get to that fountain we've already risked our lives for," Barbossa muttered. He watched impassively as Will popped the door open and threw it away, then held out his hands.

Will eyed the shackles and shrugged. "Can't help you with those. But the good news is… about that fountain… you don't have to go. Tia has some of the water that'll make you young, and Jack's going to figure out how to trade her for it."

A polite arch of the eyebrows and a small smile was all Will got, but it was enough for him to recognize the depth of the captain's relief. He touched him on the shoulder. "Whatever she makes you pay… you know Elizabeth and I will help you."

Barbossa shook free. "Not now," he growled to dispel that uncomfortable atmosphere that Turner always managed to create between them. "For now all I'm thinkin about is killin the peacock who had me locked up… and after I was so kind as to help run his ship for him, too…"

"Self-preservation and you know it," Will said wearily, giving up once again on trying to be nice. "Jack wouldn't let us fire so much as a pebble at this ship so long as your location was in doubt. So thanks to Gilette locking you up, nobody's dead yet this morning and I'd like to keep it that way. Come on – you and me to the _Dutchman_, and we'll see about Jack picking the lock on those handcuffs."

It still sounded too friendly for Barbossa's liking, so he brushed by Will hard enough to knock him against the bars before heading upstairs.

* * *

"Open dis door, Jack Sparrow." Tia Dalma's voice came through from the organ room as clear as if she'd been standing right beside him. 

Jack frowned and looked to make sure she actually _wasn't _standing right beside him, then answered: "No. Not til we clear up a few things."

A loud sigh, and the door suddenly melted into a steaming puddle. Tia and Davy stepped through the empty doorway, holding hands. "And you know I doan like t'rowing around me power," she scolded. "Now. What you want?"

"We know you've got a potion that'll make us young, and we want it," Jack declared brightly. "We'll trade you something for it. Anything at all."

"Anyt'ing?"

A few very bad thoughts flashed through Jack's mind and he cupped his hands protectively over his crotch. "Within reason," he amended.

"Reason," she repeated, smiling widely enough to show off all her stained teeth. "How bout dis: I want an island. An island what nobody can ever find."

Jack and Barbossa exchanged glances. "Isla de Muerta, obviously," Jack suggested. "I'm sure if the two of you put your heads together you'd be able to raise it from the sea..."

"Only ones as can find it is us, and we'd swear never to bother you, o'course," Barbossa offered.

"Yeh," Jack agreed quickly. "Not a peep from either of us." He had still not moved his hands, and it seemed that his inexplicable fear for his jewels might be contagious - Barbossa started shifting sideways a little to make himself less tempting of a target too.

"De problem." When Tia raised her hand to gesture with, both pirates flinched. "Davy Jones cannot make port, can not even set _foot_ on land but once every ten years." She threaded her arm through his and pressed close to him. "As long he captain o'dat ship, he cannot do for me what I require."

"And just what do you require?" Jack asked as though reluctant to know.

"Him give up da sea," she explained coldly, "An' remain where him worship me widout distraction, where he can doan never forget me, where every morning he open de eyes just to see me wid." Davy didn't argue with her. "I wan' him flesh, him mind, him every t'ought... _and_ him heart. And dis he cannot give to me while de waves are calling."

Jack made a face. "I think you're getting a raw deal, Davy, I have to be honest with you."

"He pleases me, I believe him not goan run afoul me temper again, and maybe tings change someday," Tia answered for him.

"I still think she's imposing on you, mate."

Elizabeth spoke up unexpectedly. "No, she's not." Everybody turned to look at her. She was clinging to Will's hand. "Jack, I would choose life in a _prison_ with Will over freedom without him. It's not that I'd be particularly happy in a prison... but I couldn't bear the heartache of the other way."

Davy nodded at her. Barbossa snorted, gave them each a look of incredulous disgust, and finally spat, "You people are all insane." He sounded almost offended.

"I second that, mate," Jack said cheerfully. "Can you imagine anybody locked up in a jail cell forever - with _me_? Anyway... Tia, darling, other than the privacy, what do you need from us?"

Davy said it. "The _Dutchman _needs a captain. I cannot leave until the responsibility is passed on."

"Ah." Jack bit his lip. "So you want us to find you a new captain for your ship?" Davy nodded. "Someone capable of commanding a ship of this size..."

"Someone with the stomach to kill a lot of cryin people," Barbossa added.

Will added, a little severely, "Someone you hate enough to saddle with the burden."

"Someone who hate _you _enough," Tia put in, "Dat we doan worry about no secret accords between ya. De _Dutchman _is no toy, Jack Sparrow, and you not to play wid it."

There was silence for a minute. Elizabeth shook her head. "This will never work. Who can you ask to mortgage his soul? You get nothing in return but an excess of thankless, joyless years slaving away to give people a choice they don't even want to make. I can't think of a single person who would agree to that."

Barbossa had drawn a dagger and was picking at his nails with it. "There be plenty o'ways of _persuadin _people to do things they may not want to," he pointed out.

Jack's eyes lit up. "I thought of someone." He turned to Tia and gave her a bright smile. "How would you like a fellow who's quite competent, mean as a snake, likes to wear red, and talks even funnier than old Davy here? Hmm?"

"Y'mean Prince?" Barbossa laughed aloud. "I like it, Jack. We owe that dog a disservice or two, aye? And this might just be the one pays for all. If we can sink his ship and force him... He's a pirate, Tia, and stone-cold heartless. Will it suit ye all right?"

Tia shrugged. "If him swear de oat' I ask of him, I doan care what he is."

"All right, then!" Jack held out his hand. "Give us our potion, and we swear on pain of death we'll go out straightaway and find you a new captain for your ship."

Tia squeezed Davy's arm with girlish excitement, and handed over the vials. Hardly believing their luck, Jack and Barbossa clinked them together and tossed them back before she could change her mind.

Tia shook her head. "You could ha' shared," she said reproachfully with a nod in Will and Elizabeth's direction.

With the syrup still sweet and thick on his tongue, Barbossa shrugged and stepped forward. "Not too late." He coolly tilted Elizabeth's head to the side and kissed her.

Thirty seconds later she was still licking the last little bits from inside his mouth, and Will sighed. "You know, I see more of that than any husband should have to," he complained resignedly.

Elizabeth finally pulled away. "Oh, it's for a good cause, Will," she giggled.

"And besides," Jack added, "Pot can't call the kettle black."

"Pot..." Will frowned in puzzlement. "What are you talking about? I've never-" He didn't notice Barbossa edging around to his back.

All of a sudden someone had grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms and yanking his head back by the hair. "Hey! What-"

And then Jack was upon him, and he tried to close his mouth but it was too late. "Quit bein difficult," Barbossa laughed into his ear. "D'you really want her to grow young without ye?" _I want Jack Sparrow's tongue out of my mouth, that's what I want, _Will growled to himself, trying to jerk his head free. Elizabeth - how dare she! - was laughing. "Besides," Barbossa continued, " Elizabeth says twas all business. Would ye say different?" That gave Will pause. Either he had to accuse his wife of giving a romantic kiss to a _pirate _right in front of him... unacceptable… Or he had to agree that drinking the elixir from somebody else's mouth was a meaningless transaction that you could do with anybody.

Even (shudder) Jack. He winced. _All right, let's get this over with. _He stopped fighting, opened his lips a little wider, and set about exploring Jack's mouth for whatever of the potion was left. He couldn't help noticing _Bloody hell that tastes good _and the next thing he knew he was going after it nearly as voraciously as Elizabeth had. When it was all gone he drew back right away, horrified with himself.

He noticed that Barbossa was no longer holding him by the hair; had in fact let go of him completely and was standing off with Elizabeth joking about what a good couple Will and Jack might make.

"There," Elizabeth said brightly. "All taken care of."

Will wiped his mouth. "Not worth it."

Jack wiped his, too. "You're telling _me,_" he said gruffly. "Least there's something in it for you, eh?" The look on Will's face made him smile. "Beyond a good laugh, that is. Anyway… Lizzie…._darling_… be a dear, would you, come on and help old Jack rinse a bit."

"Of course." She swayed on over to him, put one hand to his face... and shoved a bottle of rum under his nose.

Not at all surprised, he held it up in a brief salute and drained it.

* * *

Elizabeth caught Barbossa brooding alone out on deck that night. She crept up and touched him on the shoulder. "Do you think it's not going to work?" she asked quietly. 

"Hmm? Oh. The potion." He twisted his earring, not facing her. "I don't know. She did say it might take a little time to work."

Elizabeth put her arm around his waist and leaned against him. "Well if it doesn't work, we'll think of something else. I hate worrying about you."

"Get off," he snapped, "I'm not so old as to be dyin any day just yet, and I'll worry about m'self, thank you."

She giggled - his vanity had been wounded. They always said women were worse about this sort of thing, but it seemed Barbossa was just as sore about aging as she was. "Oh, come off it, Captain - you've been old since I met you," she teased, "And it's never bothered anybody before."

He gave her a sideways look and she protested, "Oh- now, I didn't mean it _that _way." He did not seem at all convinced. "You're impossible! You demand the deference due my father and yet you need to be coddled like my son, and _then_, as if all that's not enough, you claim rights which belong only to my husband. I can _hope_ you're joking…" She narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. "But I'm not always entirely sure."

There was a tiny silence and then he said shortly: "Close your eyes, miss." She did, heart pounding. She told herself she had no idea what was coming... even when his next direction was, "Put your head back a little." Even when a finger brushed her pressed-together lips, and even when he ordered: "Open up."

It was a quick kiss and not terribly tender, but when he let her go, she wiped her mouth and just stared stupidly.

Noticing that he seemed to have addled her brains a bit (and very proud of the fact), Barbossa spelled out the message so she wouldn't miss it: "I don't need t'be askin for your husband's rights, Elizabeth - I've got me own."

He turned and stalked off with his nose in the air, and she stared after him, feeling much more the blushing maiden than any two-time (soon three-time) mother ought.

She tried not to shake her head and mutter "_Pirates,_" but it was a lost cause.

**

* * *

TBC. **

**Important question: **Shall I stick with the plan to wrap up before AWE? It will mean that instead of going badly wrong as usual and requiring chapters of insane fighting and plotting, the pirates' plan will have to work out with relatively few complications.

**Do you want the long, thorough version or the quick wrap-up? **Either will work fine. The only thing is, if you guys want the longer version you can't go and abandon me when May 25 rolls around just because your PotC itch is scratched by actual PotC. Let me know today – the next update is happening Monday or at the very latest Tuesday, and I have to know which one to post.

Thanks.


	20. Barbossa walks in front

Both ships were going to the same place, but the pirates unanimously voted to sail with Gilette rather than Davy. Jack waved goodbye to his old shipmates and promised he would see what he could do about rescuing them. ("Jack, look at them," Will hissed quietly, "They're all more mollusk than man by now - there's no need to get their hopes up." Jack just shrugged and answered, "Well, I said I'd see what I could do. And I am seeing what I can do: nothing. What's wrong with that, eh?"). Then, _Dutchman _in tow, the borrowed Navy ship headed off in the direction Norrington had taken the _Pearl_.

The next morning - the first morning after her taste of the Fountain of Youth - Elizabeth woke up feeling a little different. The laugh lines around her eyes had disappeared. Her face looked softer and her cheekbones less prominent. And she suspected that if she put on her corset, it would feel looser on the waist and snugger up top than it had been in years.

Will - who couldn't keep his hands off her - had also changed. His face had smoothed out, his body slimmed and firmed a little. Not so much that people would recognize the supernatural, maybe... but enough that Elizabeth couldn't keep her hands off him either.

They kept each other busy enough to miss the fiasco outside.

* * *

Jack had dragged a big mirror up on deck and propped it against a crate to watch himself in. He figured himself to be about thirty - not as young as he'd hoped to go, perhaps, but certainly nothing to sneeze at. With a tan and a smile he could probably pass for twenty-five. Not bad at all. 

While he was busy admiring himself, Barbossa swaggered up beside him, hand on his hilt. "We look good, Jack."

"Yeh." Jack gazed at their reflections for a moment, enjoying the cameraderie he was about to destroy, then put his arm aound his partner's shoulders and said, "We look _perfect _together."

Barbossa stiffened. "T-" He shoved Jack away and turned to face him. "Don't start with me, Jack Sparrow, I've warned ye I won't tolerate-"

"Oh no no!" Jack protested quickly, "Of course I didn't mean _together _together, you know, I just meant, you know," he gestured frantically back and forth between them, "_Together_." An idea hit and his smile turned severely wicked. "I meant _ordinary _together, not together like your tattoo together."

"_Rrrrrr._" Growling deep in his throat like a wild animal, Barbossa brought his hands to his buttons. "Forgot about that. Well, if I open me shirt, Jack, and the mark's not vanished... I already wheedled some of the switchin potion out of Tia. We'll drink up and I'll cut the thing straight out of you." He handed a tiny bottle to Jack and clutched the other one in his hand before touching his last button.

While he took one deep breath to steady himself, Jack got impatient and jerked the shirt back off his shoulders for him.

There was a loud gasp - which belonged to neither captain. They looked sideways, startled, and discovered half the crew watching with mouths wide open.

Barbossa realized suddenly that he had been caught in a pretty compromising position - half naked, his shirt tangled around his hands behind him, Jack practically hugging him...

... And, from the squinting looks his shoulder was getting, probably with one very damning tattoo.

With a string of very creative swear words he tried to fight his hands free of his sleeves so he could kill someone, but Jack thought fast: he uncorked the little bottle of potion, held it up in a quarter-second salute, and gulped it down.

"Best hurry, mate, if you want this stuff to work," he advised.

Barbossa tore his arm free and brought his own bottle to his face. Berserk rages were nothing new to him, but this one was such a doozie that he actually _bit _the neck off the tiny glass bottle instead of uncorking it. He spat the chunk of glass, cork and blood and all, onto the floor and then gulped down the awful poison Tia had given him.

For a few minutes he knew nothing but the bewildering agony of a body switch, and when he returned to himself the first thing he saw was his body struggling to put its shirt back on.

_Jack's in there. _He dove in for the kill but Jack held him off easily. "Ah-ah. Remember who you're bein, _Jack_," Jack growled to him. "Crew's watching. You really want them to see you get decked by Jack Sparrow?"

He managed to stand still. "S'right," Jack continued, carefully slipping into the sing-songy rhythm everybody would recognize as Barbossaspeak. "In faaact, I bet you even think they oughta see somethin o'this nature. Aye?" Jack smacked him a good one and then pointed to the ground. "Sit."

His head was spinning. "What?"

"Sit down." Jack stared at him until he obeyed. "Good. I'll be back." He was going to hunt up some rum and a clean knife to cut the heart from his arm, but he figured it would be fun to let Barbossa sweat for a bit.

"J- _arr_... Listen here, _mate_." Barbossa knew he wasn't at all carrying off a decent Jack Sparrow impression but he was so upset he hardly cared. "You show _anyone _that mark... you say _anythin _to _anyone_..."

Jack spun on his heel and popped up his eyebrows. "Guess you'll just have to trust me, eh?"

"_I mean it_."

"So do I." Jack winked at him and turned to shove his way through the crowd with typical Barbossa roughness.

Barbossa sat and stewed for a moment, then reached for his knife. If his heart tattoo was any indication, _IDIOT _probably hadn't vanished... but there was still another whole thigh to carve up.

* * *

When they reached the place Norrington had brought the _Pearl _for repairs, they dropped anchor at a very great distance from the little harbor and discussed what came next. 

"I'll go ashore and fetch Willie," Will volunteered right away. He had already tied back his hair and was looking around for a hat. "You stay here, keep guns on Gilette and his friends just in case, and use this ship to be sure nobody tries to steal the _Pearl _until we're all aboard it. She looks great again, Captains. Congratulations."

Jack (he had his own body back; this time the little sip had only switched them a day and a half) was hopping around excitedly as he watched his ship in the spyglass, but Barbossa looked troubled. "No," he said at last. "I don't trust the peacock and I predict some problems in retrievin hostages from him."

"So?" Will gave him a Look. "You think I can't handle it?"

"I think ye could handle yourself fine if he plays fair, Will... but what if he decides to leverage ye with the boy? You'd cut off your own arm - or sell out the rest of us - to protect him." They all considered their options for a bit, and then Barbossa decided, "Far as Norrington knows, I don't have that problem. So it'll be me goes, instead of you."

"Besides," Elizabeth said suddenly, "I'll have my hands full with Annie... making sure she doesn't try to hex us or something... and so somebody else has to be here to watch Jack. Jack would do for the _Pearl _what Will would do for our son. If it becomes necessary to fire on her..."

"It won't," Jack said grimly, "Believe me."

"Elizabeth has a point," Will agreed. "Well, rest assured that I'll do whatever needs to be done - regardless of what Jack says. Captain... about Willie..." Barbossa rolled his eyes and Will smiled sheepishly. "I guess it's not necessary, is it," he realized.

* * *

Half a dozen pirates piled into a rowboat with Barbossa and headed for shore. So as not to be seen coming up to the pier in the most predictable fashion directly into whatever guns Norrington decided to have trained on them, they landed the boat at sandy beach half a mile from the harbor. 

In the process of disembarking and pulling the rowboat ashore where the waves wouldn't get her, Barbossa got himself quite soaked and grumpy. He was loathe to show up for a parlay looking like a pauper who'd been spit out by a hurricaine, but on the other hand he had just gotten a new lease on life and he wasn't particularly eager to risk it by trying to fight weighed down by twenty pounds of waterlogged pirate gear.

He fought free of his boots and coat and laid them out in the sand to dry. The hat was a dilemma - it hadn't gotten wet and he did love it, but on the other hand, was it really appropriate to wear a hat without a coat?

In the end he decided to wear his hat because it covered up his grey hair, which seemed to be the only part of him not to benefit from Tia Dalma's witchery and now clashed bizarrely with the rest of his appearance.

He checked that his powder was dry, popped his sword out an inch to be sure it handn't gotten crusty in the day or so since he'd used it last, and beckoned for his men to get moving.

* * *

Norrington's men were tramping up and down the pier loading the _Pearl _up when the pirates arrived. They were slaving away in the hot sun carrying crates and barrels and sacks, and - best of all - using a crane to lift a huge load of boxes which each read RUM - 6 BOTTLES. 

They were working so hard that Barbossa almost hated to disturb them... but he thought it unlikely that Norrington was concerning himself with the comfort of a pirate crew. _Far more likely_, he thought, _the peacock is readying the _Pearl _because he means to steal her._

The hell would he see his ship captained by a man who wore a wig! He headed down towards the harbor and, when he was still a safe distance away from the scurrying soldiers, fired a gun into the air.

Instantly a cry of "_Pirates!_" went up, and Norrington's men dropped what they were carrying to form ranks and draw weapons. Barbossa's men followed suit, and he waited with a white rag raised until Norrington arrived. "Ye did well with that," Barbossa acknowledged, nodding towards the ship. "Now, where be the boy?"

There was silence while Norrington looked him contemptuously up and down, and he strongly regretted having abandoned his coat and shoes. Not that his escort looked any worse than the soldiers - Norrington had had his men go barefoot on the slippery docks and most of them had stripped down to their undershirts in the heat - but still. Dressed in the height of pirate fashion you felt on equal ground with a dolled-up peacock, but when you stood around in bloody rags while he looked ready to have his portrait painted...

Barbossa felt it didn't bode well.

And it didn't get better when Norrington drew himself up and said, "I'm having second thoughts about handing him over to you."

Barbossa kept his eyes on Norrington's and barked, "Willie. Get over here."

The ranks parted to let the boy through, but Norrington grabbed his shoulder. Willie didn't much care - there was only one person whose permission mattered here. "May I come home now, Captain?" he called. When he got a slow nod, he shook free of Norrington and crossed the divide to stand at Barbossa's shoulder.

"So, was it to your liking?" the captain asked, still watching Norrington. "Bein worked like a slave and beaten every day?"

"Not quite every day, sir."

Barbossa shot him a quick smile at that, then announced, "We'll be leavin now," and gestured for his men to head towards the _Pearl_.

Norrington shouted "Not one more step!" and a number of guns cocked.

The pirates seemed a little hesitant to push their luck further, so Barbossa dismissed them. "Then go back - get our boat and don't forget me boots. I'll hold the soldiers here a minute, and I'll take us back our _Pearl_." They all turned and ran off the way they had come.

Barbossa, for his part, dipped Norrington a mocking half-bow farewell, then walked right past the soldiers and down towards the dock.

They turned to keep their guns on him. "Stop - or we'll shoot," Norrington warned.

Barbossa could sense Willie half a step behind him. "I suppose _I_ might shoot a child in the back," he called over his shoulder. "But ye will not."

"Captain," Willie hissed at him as they kept going, "You told me never to bet on somebody else's good nature..."

Barbossa chuckled. "_I'm _not bettin on nothin," he explained. "If I'm wrong, it's _you_ who takes the bullet."

Willie made an outraged sputtering noise but didn't dodge out of the way. They kept walking and were nearly to the pier when the first shot rang out.

At the unmistakable _CRACK_, Barbossa whirled around in horror, gasping "_No_" but nobody heard it because of the racket of all the rest of the soldiers firing as well.

* * *

TBC. 

Leave me love. Or hate.


	21. Jack tells a story

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I'm out of the country, far far away this time, and it's damn hard to find internet here. Anyhow, I'll update again as soon as I find a computer…

* * *

Barbossa and Willie locked eyes for a long moment, both frozen stiff by shock and dismay.

And then the spell was broken by a deafening crash on the pier. Barbossa whipped around reflexively to it and saw that the crane-load of crates reading _RUM-6 BOTTLES_ had smashed down to the ground, shattering beyond all hope of drinkability.

He didn't even think to mourn the rum, though, because if the soldiers had been shooting at the ropes and pulley, then that meant…

"You're not shot." He said it almost as a challenge, willing it to be true, and swung back around to face the boy behind him.

He jumped – while his back was turned, Norrington had approached and was now standing six inches from his face. "Correct," Norrington put in quietly. "Consider it a repayment of all the times you've shown my men your peculiar brand of mercy wherein you leave them naked and humiliated, rather than dead." His lips quirked in a brief, bitter smile. "I see you realize what a good deal you're getting."

Barbossa's breathing was still quick and shallow. He cursed himself for it and ordered himself to calm down. "That rum was naught but an innocent bystander, and did not deserve to die," he said. "Willie: we're leaving."

He turned towards the _Pearl_ and then stopped short, realizing that the shattered rum bottles made it impossible to go any further without shoes. Norrington gave a patient sigh. "See? You're trapped. Now come along with me – and if you resist, then my men _will _shoot you. And the boy."

Barbossa took one look at the way the waves were driving up against the pilings of the pier and decided that swimming was out of the question – he had no wish to be battered to death. Going quietly with the peacock was, of course, also out of the question. That left only one option. His jaw tightened as he held a brief conversation with himself over whether this was _really _necessary, and then he turned his back on Norrington and started walking down the dock.

Willie stared after him, shuddering at the sound of glass and wood crunching beneath the captain's bare feet, but the logical response didn't even occur to him until Barbossa paused, turned, and held out his hand. "Comin?"

Oh. Willie shouldered past Norrington and went for it before he could change his mind.

Sheer disbelief at what he was doing carried him for a few steps, but it wasn't long before the pain really hit him and he jerked to a stop. He looked down and saw-

Barbossa's sleeve. "Don't watch," the captain ordered, forcing Willie's head up. "Just run." His voice was cold and tight and not at all encouraging as he pulled them forward.

Willie seized his wrist and squeezed for all he was worth, but got moving. When he was yanked in one direction or another he went, he stepped when he was told "Here," jumped when he was told "Careful," and finally there were a few paces with no fresh horrors and he realized that they were through it.

He let go of the captain's hand and went to his knees, taking the weight off his injured feet and trying to gasp in enough air to scream.

Barbossa looked back and saw that none of the soldiers had dared follow him. Norrington – the only man wearing his shoes – was too busy chewing them out to do anything useful himself. "-_OBVIOUSLY COUNTS AS RESISTING!_" he was shouting. "Why didn't you shoot?!" Some of his men were already loading their guns. Others were starting to sweep debris out of the way.

The captain scuffed against the ground to rid himself of some of the bigger pieces of glass he'd picked up, then tapped Willie on the head and growled, "Escape's first, nursin's later. Let's go."

Willie stumbled, trying to favor first one foot and then the other. "Wait - I can't do it," he gasped.

The captain was already halfway up the ramp. "You've done the hard part; now shut up and get to the ship!" he called over his shoulder.

"I mean it! _Help me_!"

Barbossa stopped - out of nowhere came the thought of those cables that let you walk. He stormed over and without a word went down to a knee to feel for the vital spot behind the ankle.

It was intact, on both legs.

Now more annoyed than concerned, and most especially annoyed at _being _concerned, the captain snapped, "Well, what d'you expect me to do about it?"

"I don't know," Willie snapped right back at him, "I can crawl or you can carry me, which do _you _think is faster?"

While he began suggesting a third alternative involving his belt, Willie grabbed him. The scuffle was brief – his father had always been an avid fan of horseplay and so Willie was adept at riding piggyback on even the most uncooperative of hosts. Barbossa soon realized this, gave up trying to detach him, and trudged up to the _Pearl_. He dumped the boy down on the deck and tossed him an axe. "Cut the mooring lines. I don't care how; you can walk on your head if you have to. I'll do the rest. And stop the snivelin or I'll throw ye back onto that dock myself, you whiny little brat."

Willie didn't deem it a good time to argue, so he just did what he was told.

* * *

The two of them got the _Pearl_moving on their own. They were soon joined by the rowboat of pirates who, fortunately, had not forgotten the captain's coat and boots. They sailed out to where their friends waited for them. 

It was time to untangle the crews and send everyone back where they belonged. The discussions took place on the _Pearl. _This was convenient for Barbossa and Willie - they were in no shape to go anywhere, and were just sitting knee-deep in buckets of seawater when the others came aboard.

Jack and Will immediately demanded to know what happened, while Elizabeth just covered her mouth and tried hard not to attack her son with a barrage of hugs and kisses.

"It's nothing. We're bleedin a little, is all," Barbossa answered for the both of them.

Willie nodded towards the gory footprints that crisscrossed the deck and managed to crack a joke. "And this after I just _killed _myself scrubbing her down." He lifted a leg from the bucket to show them, intensely proud of the way he was holding up. "Norrington thought a few cracked-up rum bottles could stand between us and the _Pearl_."

"Turns out you were right, Jack," Barbossa added. "Kid _would _crawl over broken glass for me."

Willie fended off his worried parents gracefully, but when even Jack came to check on him it was too much to bear. He wasn't a baby anymore, for Heaven's sake!

He shot a look in Barbossa's direction. "If you're not going to fuss over him, Captain Sparrow, don't fuss over me," Willie snapped. "We walked over the same stretch."

"Yes," Jack said patiently, "But _he _was walking on a set of scars so thick he hardly felt a thing, whereas _you_-"

"What was that?" Barbossa glared first at Jack and then at Will. "I distinctly recall forbidding you-"

"I didn't say anything!" Will protested, voice jumping higher than Willie's. "I swear."

"There be a very limited number of people in possession of that particular piece of knowledge, Turner. Considerin the rest of 'em are mostly dead... that leaves _you_."

"I _didn't_," Will repeated. "Come on, Jack, tell him I didn't tell you!"

"Oh, all _right,_" Jack sighed. "Leave 'im be, mate - I found out for meself."

"_What_ is everybody talking about?" Willie asked. "Well? Hello?"

He was ignored by everyone except Davy, who laughed at him. "Aw, is the tyke getting a little crabby?" he teased. "You've had a rough day. Show me."

Willie looked around for help and got a nod from his mother (Jack and Will and Barbossa were still too busy glaring at one another), so he let Davy see what was wrong with him and Davy sat down to clean out the wounds himself. His sticky hands could get at splinters that Willie could not, and while everybody found the sight of his suckers at work disgusting, it was rather difficult to look away from. Jack finally spoke up to end the awkward silence.

"It was nigh ten years ago now," Jack said in Barbossa's direction. "You and I were in Tortuga wenching, and you stole the one I was after."

Barbossa chuckled despite himself. "I do that whene'er we wench together, Jack."

"Well. _This _time I got a little annoyed. So once you were snoring in that special way that says you've had one or three too many, I decided to get me a spot of revenge. So." Jack settled back against the railing, enjoying himself now because it looked like he would get to tell the story without Barbossa killing him halfway through. "So I stole your shoes right off you - and your socks, because I needed something to carry the mud in."

"Mud?" Barbossa repeated.

"Yep, mud. I got some from outside and slopped it around on the hallway floor. Then I went on down the hall and found a nice married couple, woke the lady up, and worked me charms on 'er."

"You did _what_?" Elizabeth demanded, scandalized even though she knew she should know better; it was _Jack Sparrow _for Heaven's sake.

"A married woman? How?" Willie was fascinated enough not to mind that Davy was now leaving a coating of fishy goo over his cuts to close them.

"I dragged her out into the hall and went down on one knee to propose to her - figured I'd try the element of surprise, eh? Oh, and by the way, I must admit she wastruly hideous. Think, _Gibbs in a dress_. Gibbs before he had scales, that is… but anyway she liked me and I seduced the dear old thing right then and there. Lizzie, cover your ears."

Of course Elizabeth did no such thing.

"So," Jack continued, looking terribly proud of himself even though he'd already confessed that his damsel looked like an old fat drunk pirate, "We went for it right there in the hallway, mates - up against the wall and plenty noisy. The banging woke up the husband - all part of me plan - and when I heard him get up I took off. Ran back down the hallway, leavin a trail of Barbossa-sized footprints that led straight back to dear old Hector himself, still sound asleep o'course. I stuck the shoes back on his feet and hid in the corner..."

"And I woke up," Barbossa finished, remembering the incident now, "To the beatin of me life, with no idea what was happening nor why. Twas a fat old farmer as I recall, who'd grabbed up a poker for use on me kidneys." Suddenly he turned to Jack, looking horrified. "I _thanked _ye for pullin him off!"

"As well you should have," Jack agreed. "After all, mate, I saved your life - that poker could've killed you. Anyway," he added, changing from one dangerous subject to another, "That's how I knew about your scars." He turned to Willie for the conclusion. "And _that _is why I'm fussing over you and not over him. The end."

"The end," repeated Davy. He stood.

Willie followed suit, pleased to discover that walking around was now possible, if painful. And who had ever said that Davy Jones was heartless! "Thank you very much." He nodded towards Barbossa and added, "Do him next, would you?"

Davy laughed. "Him? I don't think I will. I like to see him suffer."

Willie thought that was pretty mean already, but then Barbossa shot over a glare that seemed aimed at both of them. Davy smirked as though he'd planned the whole thing, and Willie thought that perhaps it was right to call him heartless after all.

* * *

TBC. Happy? No cliffie this time! 

Just Jack being Jack. Next chapter is more plot-ish and I'll post it as soon as I can.


	22. Prince suggests a bonding experience

A/N: Sorry this was short. I'm still abroad and will be til Monday. I'm trying to get one more update in on the hotel computer, but if not, I'll soon be home and updates will be more regular and better and all that.

* * *

Once they had collected all their crew, Davy and Tia took the _Dutchman _away to see about finding themselves a secluded little love-nest someplace. Jack felt much safer once they were gone. As for the other unwelcome guests, a deal was a deal and Gilette had done everything that was asked of him, so Jack and Barbossa decided to let him and his men go. Norrington would eventually be coming after the_ Pearl_ trying to hang them as usual, they knew, but it hardly bothered them since they never had had a problem dealing with him before. 

It was time to fulfill their bargain with Davy Jones and find him a replacement.

They went looking for Prince, and the trip was not much fun for anyone. Barbossa and Willie could hardly walk. Annie missed her new friend Tia and cried for her no matter how hard her parents tried to console her, and she persisted in conjuring the witch's face in every available reflective surface until at last the captains ordered that no mirrors, spoons, or even bowls of water be left where Annabelle could reach them. Will worried, because the captain actually looked _good _now, younger and healthier than Elizabeth had ever seen him, and if she had somehow - though God only knew why - been tempted _before_, then... Elizabeth, for her part, was terribly sad that their trip was soon coming to an end, and a little insulted that Barbossa wasn't flirting much and categorically refused to let her help care for him. Perhaps she should have insisted on being made just a little bit younger? Beckett languished in the brig, which Willie had taken great pains to have repaired, frequently without food because nobody was too concerned about feeding him. Jack sulked because nobody was in a good enough mood to have fun with.

Unfortunately, when they had finally tracked down Prince's ship and were approaching her to engage, they realized they had bigger problems than their own private unhappinesses: Norrington had apparently made an unusually good job of his pursuit. His ship was on the horizon.

Barbossa shrugged and checked all his pistols. "I feel good, Jack. I bet we can take them both at once."

Jack sighed. "Even in your _real _prime you were not that arrogant, mate," he said. "Come on – I feel good too, but that doesn't mean I want to do something stupid. Two ships against us is bad odds any way you slice it. We've got to make one into an ally. Which?"

"We're lookin to keep Prince alive for Davy but we don't care what happens to the other," Barbossa reminded. "That means we ally ourselves with His Highness, and the peacock gets it."

Jack nodded his assent and went to flag down Prince for a parlay.

* * *

The battle went so smoothly that Barbossa was tempted to consider working in tandem with another pirate ship more often. Within record time they had Norrington and most of his crew safely roped together on the deck of his own ship, which had taken damage but was still completely salvageable. 

Once the fighting was done, the two pirate crews stood facing each other warily, each armed to the teeth and awaiting a signal from their leaders.

Jack didn't much like all the tension. "Somebody say something friendly," he suggested loudly. Barbossa and Prince both laughed, and although it was a little forced it did the trick. Most weapons were lowered.

"What do with this ship, Captains?" Barbossa opened the talks.

"I ave no need of a second ship at zis time," Prince said haughtily. "You may keep ze ship, and I will take all z'prisoners."

"No fair!" Jack complained. "_We_ want half the prisoners, too. And then we'll _buy_ your half of the ship off you. Everything split right down the middle, eh?"

Barbossa wondered where the devil he was going with this, but before he could ask Prince said, "And what about ze leader? 'Oo gets him?"

"Nobody," Jack said brightly. "Him we just set afloat on a raft or something – won't that be fun?"

Barbossa and Prince immediately began to bicker – whoever got to execute Norrington would appear to be the boss and therefore they both wanted the honor. Neither would give in, and things began to get heated. "Your 'ealth has seriously improved since last we met, Captain, and I am happy for you. I would ate for zis to come to bloodshed," Prince purred at last.

"As would I," Barbossa snarled back. "I'd work with ye again, Captain. It went well. But I'll not concede the peacock to-"

"'Ow about zis, in zat case: we dispatch 'im togezer, as a symbol of our… one 'esitates to say _alliance _in our line of work, _non_?... of our, euh, cooperation."

"Seal the deal, as it were," Barbossa agreed. He looked over and saw Jack's lip curling. "Captain Sparrow don't have the taste for it that we do," he told Prince, "So it'll be just you and me. That suit ye?"

Apparently it did. A small graceful gesture from Prince had someone jumping to separate Norrington from the other prisoners and haul him into the cabin. Barbossa made to follow but Will stopped him. "Captain, if he is going to have a friend in there, I think you ought to as well. For safety's sake."

Choosing Jack would just make everyone suspicious, so Barbossa pointed to Willie instead and then headed in. Prince was behind him, which made him extremely nervous – especially since Willie (having learned his lesson already) refused to walk between them as a buffer.

* * *

Barbossa gestured for Willie and Prince's escort to stand aside, then went to where the prisoner had been sloppily tied to a chair. "Right. How'd ye like to organize this, Your Highness?" 

Prince crossed his arms and gave them a few feet of space. "You ave seen my usual _methode,_ sir – for which I do apologize most truly – and I would like to see yours. You may start."

"Apology's not necessary," Barbossa drawled, shrugging off the nightmarish experience and trying not to let his hands retreat into his sleeves. "Business be business – and as I recall, you'n your men took more damage that day than I did. Just teach me somethin new here and we'll call it even." Barbossa turned his attention to their victim. "Now: I'm walkin on six different sets of stitches because of ye, and I can't say it's improved me mood any."

Norrington unclenched his teeth long enough to grind out words: "Captain Barbossa, that was your own-"

A sharp slap silenced him efficiently. "I was not askin for your input – I'm merely explainin why it is that I'm going to be butcherin you alive today. Just for your information only, so's you don't die confused among everythin else."

When he paused for breath Norrington took the opportunity to speak up again. "Captain, please," he said, much less aggressively, "You've always been fair with me…"

"So I have," Barbossa admitted with a small dark smile, "And so I'll be. Y'always get a choice, don't you? How's this for a bargain:" He walked around behind the chair and sliced through the rope at Norrington's left wrist. "We've got some delicate work to do, him and me, and it'll be easier if you're not thrashin around. So how's this: you will cooperate with everything we ask of ye, and not scream the house down – neither of us cares for a headache. In return, I'll let you live at the end of it, or kill you clean if that's your preference. Do we have an accord, aye or no?"

"You don't seriously-"

Barbossa hit him again, with a closed fist this time so as to be sure of breaking his nose. "Aye, or no?" he repeated patiently when the yelping had stopped. "Perhaps you'd like me to spell out the alternative?" He licked the blood off his knuckles while he waited for Norrington to think about it. When he felt enough time had passed he ordered, "Hold out your hand."

He was extraordinarily surprised when, a mere minute or two later, the peacock mastered himself enough to obey. Out of respect for that (last?) demonstration of courage, Barbossa opted not to mock him for the tears of pain and terror that were coursing down his cheeks. He gave the victim a consoling pat on the back before turning to Prince. "Ready?"

* * *

Willie tried hard not to be disturbed. He told himself that the captain was probably just acting and tried not to look at the blood dripping down Norrington's face onto his shirt. He reminded himself that they weren't actually cutting anything yet; so far it was just pointing and poking and discussing the psychological effects of crippling somebody in this way or that. Besides, he told himself, the gruesome anatomy lesson was mostly Prince's doing anyhow – Barbossa's only suggestion so far had been, "Mmm, clever, I see your point. I've always been one for castratin people. Same reason." 

A sob escaped Norrington at that, and Prince laughed. "True. I sink zat if he were wizholding information from us, 'e would have shared it by now. And we ave not yet even touched him."

"Cept the nose." Barbossa poked it. "All right: show me somethin I've not seen before. Somethin really…"

"Of course." Prince thought for a bit and decided on one of his personal favorites: two small quick cuts and then you throw a key on the floor and offer the prisoner thirty seconds to unlock the cell and escape. Especially because they were shaking and blood was slicking everything up, the task always turned out to be impossible without opposable thumbs. "See zis?" He felt around Norrington's hand for the spot and beckoned Barbossa to lean closer.

Barbossa hovered over him to see better. He glanced at Willie and found that Willie was watching him, looking horrified but not frozen. He figured they understood one another, and leaned a little lower. "So it be that little spot right there?" he asked, reaching calmly over Prince's shoulder to point. He was now in position to yank Prince's head to the side and slit his throat, which he did even before he received his answer on whether or not he was pointing to the right place.

As soon as Willie saw the captain move, he whirled on the big pirate next to him and pressed a knife to his neck. "Hands up where I can see them," he ordered.

The pirate obeyed, but it didn't much matter – Barbossa crossed the room to them swiftly and slit _his_ throat, too. "What was that for?" Willie hissed. "He'd surrendered!"

"Spare me," Barbossa snarled. "Now stand by the door and let me know if you hear anything you shouldn't."

Willie put his ear to it and shook his head. "Everybody's standing around talking, same as before. No one heard us." He hated to be naïve and stupid again, but… "Captain, I thought you were going to take Prince alive. Didn't you promise him to Davy?"

"I promised _a_ captain to Davy," he corrected, "Not necessarily _that_ captain. _That _captain was not someone I want sailin me seas for all eternity. And we happen to have a replacement quite handy." He looked towards Norrington, who was staring wide-eyed as if he'd lost his mind entirely.

"He'll never agree-"

Barbossa finished wiping off his knife and put it away with a satisfying _zhing_. "I think he will."

"Captain…"

"Belay that, boy, I didn't mean it that way. Go outside and tell 'em all you're gettin ill and need Jack to replace you. Jack can talk anybody into anything." He turned to his prisoner. "Consider _that _a repayment for the kid. If you'd had him shot, I really _would _have carved you up like a turkey. You can breathe, now," he invited when Norrington failed to show any relief. "You're mostly out of the woods. _These _woods, anyway."

* * *

TBC. 

I'll do my best to give Norrie as happy an ending as possible, but I don't see him as much of a happy-ending kind of guy...

Talk to me!


	23. Elizabeth seals the deal

I'm home!!

This chapter is dedicated to my sister, who ditched a date to meet me at the theater on 10 minutes' notice last night. It was my first time seeing AWE in a theater (until now it's been some ratty-ass bootleg from the streets of Tianjin, China). God it's good to be back...

**BlackJade**: in DMC I guessed that Tia was the one Davy loved because of 2 things: the way she kind of gestured to herself when she said "It was a woman...", and the fact that they had the same locket. (Davy's is obvious, and hers you see when Jack is picking around her shack stealing things.) The Fountain of Youth was just a super lucky guess, because I figured Jack and Barbsy would be in no hurry to grow old and die after all they've been through.

**Unikorn**: (and everyone who envisions a happier fate for the Dutchman's captain than I do): No, no, **I most certainly do NOT believe it's only for 10 years**. Tia Dalma is sometimes hard to understand, but I thought she said "And _every _10 years, him could come ashore...". And the fishpeople rattle on and on and on about how "the Dutchman must always have a captain." And the Bootstrap/Will conversation seemed to suggest the same thing. After all, don't forget, Will was about to die when he took the deal. So if it the deal was only ONE ten-year stretch of bleak sailing duties, it would seem a very small price to pay in exchange for eventually getting his life and wife back. The only way Bootstrap's "steep price" sort of attitude makes sense is if he knows Will's doomed himself to an _eternity _of exile in exchange for those few decades-apart moments with his beloved.

Anyway. Enjoy. Especially Norrie or Beckett fans...

* * *

Isla de Muerta was apparently not difficult to resurrect: the _Dutchman _returned soon after Jack had disappeared inside with Norrington to work his magic. Will reluctantly invited Davy over, praying that he would _not _bring Tia Dalma. 

No such luck - the witch was still glued to Davy's side, which meant that when little Annie rushed forward to greet her, it brought her closer to Davy Jones than any Turner could safely be.

"Jack and Barbossa are inside right now," Will assured him, "They're _persuading. _You'll have what was promised you." _Keep things friendly,_ he ordered himself. _Just keep him calm until_-

At that moment the cabin door burst open. "Well, well! Just the man!" Jack scampered up and threw his arm around Davy's shoulders. "Er… fish. Well. Guess what, mate? We found you your bloody heir!"

"You what?" Elizabeth looked from him to the figure standing in the doorway. "Oh, James- _no_."

"Much as it pains me to say so," Norrington answered, "Jack convinced me." She kept shaking her head and so he explained, without looking at her: "At some point I am going to die. When I do, I have to be able to stand before God and believe that he is not going to damn me to hellfire. Elizabeth… right now, I…"

"Postponing the judgment," Davy put in sweetly. "A phrase I've heard used more than once."

"No, not so much _postponing,_" Norrington corrected. "_Influencing. _Mitigating. Altering, even, I'd hope." He tried to straighten up as he explained: "My life has to be more than... the hurricane." He was choking on the words a little but he listed it all. "Than the lost lives. The betrayals. The pride. The blind eye I've turned to good people..."

Much as she wanted Davy free to be with his love, Elizabeth still couldn't sit quietly by while James threw away his family and his future. "James, God's job is to see past all that," she whispered. "That's what mercy is..."

"Yes, well, what if I get him on one of those days when he's being just, instead of merciful? What then?" Norrington shook his head and turned towards Davy. "I've made too many mistakes to clean up in a single lifetime. I want what you have. I want to remember so much restitution that I can't even _recall _what I was apologizing for."

Davy's beard squelched as he nodded slowly. "So many solitary nights that I can't even _remember _what it was like to have the witch beside me."

Norrington stood right in front of him and looked up into his eyes. "Does it work?"

Davy looked away and _plurrp_ed. It took him a while to answer. "For a price," he said at last.

Jack breathed loudly on Davy's claw and rubbed with his sleeve as though to polish it. "It's not a bad look, really," he said hopefully.

"Indeed." Norrington made a face. "Let's just hope my wife agrees with you."

"Wife?" Davy repeated. "Who said you could have a wife?"

Things tensed up immediately. "Who said I can't?"

"You can't go ashore," Davy reminded, "Practically ever. What's she going to do? Live like a widow? Come aboard with you, and be cursed herself?"

"I don't know. I rarely know what Charlotte is going to do." Norrington shook his head. "She may give her blessing and let me go alone. She may demand to come with me. She may wait behind on condition that you two," he said to Jack and Barbossa, "Share whatever secret you've apparently learned about the ability to live forever."

"I'd say that latter is most likely," Elizabeth put in. "Charlotte's waited this long for you, James, and I don't see her giving up now, not when there's finally a light at the end of the tunnel."

Jack nodded sagely. "Long as said tunnel may be."

* * *

James said his goodbyes to the pirates. Elizabeth got surprisingly tearful and threw herself at him for a hug, most of the others shook his hand solemnly and wished him well, and Barbossa, on his third try, quietly said: "If it be too long…" 

"I'll know where to turn to for commiseration, if not help." They were both looking in opposite directions. "Thank you."

Davy offered to take him home to his wife in Port Royal. "And I'll carry you to the _Dutchman _myself," he laughed. "To help you get used to traveling underwater!"

James flinched just a little as he was grabbed and flung over Davy's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Davy headed for the railing and just as he was about to go over, turned and asked innocently, "Oh! And what happened to the _pirate _captain you meant to give me?"

"Who, Prince?" Jack answered before thinking. "He's dead."

At that, the pirates who had been lounging around on deck drinking up all the captured rum all began to take notice.

Prince's (former) first mate stood up and reached for his pistol. "He's _what_?"

Davy laughed as ranks hastily formed up and weapons were drawn all round. "Enjoy your day, Sparrow." He dove over the railing with Norrington. Tia Dalma rolled her eyes and vanished in a puff of smoke.

* * *

Jack backed up against the mast, hands spread. Surrounded. "Whoa. All right, mates, look, there's no need for this-" 

Barbossa nearly wasted a bullet on him. "We'll not be held captive by our own allies," he snarled, then turned his glare on Prince's crew. "You lot are to stand down immediately! Or else half of you will be spendin the rest of the day fishin the other half outta the water in pieces! Guns down - now!"

One of them laughed outright. "You know who we've been sailing with. Do you really think we can be intimidated so easily?"

"I think this is twice now I've got the best of your dear late Captain," Barbossa drawled. "And if ye be too coward to cross _him_, then God help you find the guts to cross _me_."

For a moment it looked like it would be all right, but then one of the pirates thought to turn a gun on Elizabeth. "Weapons down," he growled, "Or she gets it first!"

Will immediately lowered his sword and gestured for others to follow suit, so Barbossa rolled his eyes and drew a pistol. "Weapons _not _down," he ordered, "Or _she _gets it first!" He was pointing a gun at Annabelle.

"We've been here before," Elizabeth said calmly, ignoring the gun pointed at her. "Last time we all ended up taking bullets. Let's do better this time, shall we?"

Will was shaking. "There are children. _No shootout, _Captain," he forced out through gritted teeth. "Please."

Barbossa opened his mouth but Willie nudged him and spoke up in his place. "We're of no value to you dead," the boy said to the enemy who seemed to be in charge. "But if we're alive… I heard you wanted to go to World's End, isn't that right? We could take you. For Heaven's sake, you could even find your captain again if you liked him so much!"

That did it. "Jack Sparrow to the helm if you want the children to survive," Prince's top lieutenant decided at once. "The rest, leave your guns here and get back to the _Pearl _- in the brig. Anybody misbehaves and you can all look forward to life without ears and noses. Is it a deal?" Silence. "If it's not, you'll be building a few very small coffins tonight."

"Captain, please," Will said again. "No fight, not now."

Barbossa wasn't looking at him _or _at Annie. He was catching a very meaningful stare from Willie and a very small nod. "Very well," he spat. "We'll lead you to World's End, and afterwards you'll wave us goodbye and ne'er return to plague us. Nobody's to die in the meantime, and it's to be hands off the women and children, or y'have me word Jack will lead us all straight off the map to a grisly death. Those be the terms." For a change he was the first one to decock his pistol and lay it down - a surrender.

Confronted with the logistical problem of how one crew was supposed to sail three ships, Prince's henchmen divided themselves up and let most of the pirates loose to help sail the _Pearl, _and most of Norrington's men loose to sail his captured ship. They figured that having Barbossa, all the Turners, Gilette and several assorted underlings stuck in the brig would be insurance enough against rebellion from any quarter.

* * *

"I hope you know what you're doin," Barbossa growled once they were all squished into the cell (with Beckett, who was not at all pleased to be sharing his space even though it tickled him that the pirates were being held captive on their own ship). "Willie, I sincerely hope you're not relyin on Jack to pick the lock - because Jack's up on deck." 

"No, sir."

"Nor on your father's trick for liftin doors free..."

"No sir - I know my hinges."

"And I _most sincerely _hope you're not implyin that you failed to have me brig repaired the way I ordered it."

"No, sir. The brig's in perfect order."

A long pause. "Then how, pray tell, are you plannin on settin us free?"

"_I_ can't set us free," Willie said, smug as anything. "_You _can."

"Me."

"Aye, you." Willie reached into his shirt. "With this."

Barbossa didn't have time to resent all the drama - he was too busy pouncing and snatching away the chain Willie had round his neck. "Where'd you get me necklace! I lost this!"

"I was two feet away when Norrington cut you. I saw the chain break, I picked it up... and you _threw me out_ before I could give it back."

By now Barbossa had settled the pendant back into its place over his breastbone. "Much thanks, boy, but I fail to see how it's going to be helpin us at the present moment."

Willie nudged Beckett with his foot. "Move, Governor. All right, Captain, come over here. Look at the lock." He got Barbossa to bend over and notice the slit running up and down the back, facing them. "I figured you wouldn't take kindly to ever being locked up on your own ship, sir, so when I had a new lock made, I thought I might as well make sure it would never happen. Try the necklace, nothing else will work. It's an exact fit and you slide it down..."

While Barbossa struggled to figure out the mechanism, Elizabeth thought up a way to distract the two pirates, supposedly guarding them, who lazed around outside the cell playing cards. "Annie, dear, look at how _shiny _his sword is. You can see yourself in it, can't you?"

Half a minute later there was a long, thin Tia Dalma dancing up and down the blade laughing at the soldiers and scaring them half to death. At first they couldn't seem to look away, and by the time Will and Barbossa got around to their respective backs and broke their necks, it was too late. (Will botched his a little, but when Barbossa tried to correct him he held up a hand and declared that once was plenty and it was not a skill he would be needing again. He tried not to notice that Elizabeth _was _listening, just in case.)

Gilette and his friends were allowed to leave the brig as well, on the condition that they agreed to help retake the _Pearl _from Prince's pirates. Gilette agreed, on the condition that after that, he would have help in retaking his own ship from Prince's pirates. Barbossa agreed, on the condition that after _that,_ Gilette's freed ship would help him blast Prince's ship and all its occupants to smithereens for all the trouble they had caused him.

They knew it would be much too dangerous to allow Annie to wander up on deck where the fighting would be, but on the other hand, they didn't want to leave her all by herself. Elizabeth thought up the obvious solution: "Cutler." She cornered him in the cell and dropped her voice so that nobody else would hear her. "How good are you at cowering in the shadows and persuading a little girl to cower with you?"

"I imagine it's not outside the scope of my abilities," he answered calmly. "You would leave the little brat alone with me?"

_Little brat _didn't even come close to provoking her. "I'd consider it. I know your passion for being on the winning side. And you _do _believe we're going to win, don't you?" She waited for his nod before continuing. "I can guarantee you your life if you'll watch over Annie until the danger is past." 

Beckett had been anticipating a terribly difficult time convincing the pirates not to kill him – after all, he was of no further use and generally hated by all of them. This made things a little better. He shifted on his feet. "Seal it with a kiss, and we've got ourselves a deal." Her jaw dropped. "Aside from the indisputable fact that you are absolutely beautiful these days," he explained barely above a whisper, "I know the story of what happened between you and Jack Sparrow. I know how it tore at you, and I don't think you'll be so hasty to betray a kiss again."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, wondering which of her friends had gotten chummy enough with Lord Beckett to start gossiping about her. "For your information, that's not the first time nor the last that I betrayed Jack to help myself," she said at last. "You and I are perhaps more alike than you know. But fine. You can have your kiss – only not in front of my husband, because it will upset him. And not in front of Barbossa, because he'll kill you."

Beckett's eyes darted over her shoulder to where the two of them stood watching warily. "Isn't that interesting," he purred. "They would not bat an eye if I had you cut yourself so that we could seal in blood… yet if I ask you to put your head a few degrees to the side and lean four inches closer than you are already, then _that _would upset them."

She could hear everyone starting to fidget impatiently, so she hissed _fine _again and leaned forward as requested.

Although she didn't much appreciate his holding her by the jaw rather than behind the neck or shoulders or some other more friendly grip, she had to admit Beckett was a fairly competent kisser. His lips were soft and moved as she led them, he gave her only as much tongue as was polite for a first kiss, and when she went to pull away, he caught her lower lip in his teeth for just a second.

He released her and breathed, "All right – deal." He looked over her shoulder again and registered that the slight commotion they had heard was _Will _stopping _Barbossa _from stepping in, not the other way round. Interesting.

And now it was time to babysit. "Annabelle. We've met before. My name is Cutler. Come sit by me and I'll… er… " he racked his brains and finally thought up, "I'll tell you a story."

She didn't seem to like him as much as she'd liked Tia Dalma, but Annie went and sat down as requested. Barbossa used his necklace to lock them in.

They shared out what weapons were available (a few guns from the dead guards, and all the multitude of hidden knives Barbossa carried on his person) and then it was time to go. Willie and Barbossa braced against the hatch and prepared to burst through. "One," Barbossa breathed.

Willie nodded. "Two…" they whispered together.

Elizabeth squeezed Will's hand and giggled, "Just what you've always wanted, Will: a chance to fight pirates."

Will didn't have time to laugh. "_Three_."

* * *

TBC. 

Semi-cliffie. Semi-apologies.

Leave me love. I'll update soon!

And nobody better accuse me of being too nice to Beckett - AWE gave him a supercool death instead of a regular Disney-villain-death. This means my pro-Beckettry is totally canon. So there.

**Edit:** thanks for the heads up on the typo. for some reason italics get deleted sometimes when i upload and i have to retype them.


	24. Norrington and Davy talk business

A/N: In this chapter I adopt the Disney premise that characters can always find a moment to have a conversation in the middle of a raging battle without missing all the action or getting stabbed right in the middle. It strains credulity, perhaps, but makes for much better fight scenes.

Also, during this chapter it becomes especially important to remember that this story only counts canon up to DMC. Some of the stuff in AWE about Davy's mission is not how I envision it, and I'll be sticking with me own preconceived notions, thank ye kindly.

* * *

Barbossa burst out shouting "_ARRRRR_" while Willie shrieked "_LIKILIKILIKI_" and all heads turned to them. Will pitched knives into the first people to draw weapons, and Elizabeth screamed up into the rigging _"Anyone who actually belongs on this ship, KILL THE INTRUDERS!_" 

After that, things happened very fast. Since Prince's crew had been divided up among the three vessels, only a third of them were left on the _Black Pearl _to keep it in line. This left them far outnumbered... and Barbossa's men, though unarmed and sometimes handcuffed, were positively fierce. In the absence of guns and swords, they began grabbing up the empty rum bottles that littered the ship and breaking them over people's heads. When Barbossa saw this, he laughed to Willie, "Best keep your shoes on, boy!" and Willie laughed right back, "Oh, please - we already know it doesn't scare me any!".

When the other ships realized that the _Pearl _was rebelling, they took action. Prince's ship set its men to stations and began preparing for battle. The sailors on the Navy ship attacked their captors, just as valiantly as the pirates but with much less success.

Gilette, seeing how poorly his men were faring, fought his way to Barbossa and demanded that he make good on his promise at once. "They're being butchered!" he shouted over the sound of smashing bottles and shrieks. "You said you would help - now get over there!"

Noting that the peacock was woefully unarmed, Barbossa handed over the piece of wood he had been bludgeoning people with and tore off his sword-belt. "How?" he demanded, cracking someone in the face with the buckle end. "Fly?"

Gilette ducked under the whistling leather to clobber someone in the kneecap. "I'm serious! Sparrow's over there too, don't you care about _him_?"

"Odds are good that Jack be watchin his own back," Barbossa answered in between blows, but once it had been brought up he couldn't quite let it go. "You and Will watch mine." With the two of them covering him, he took the time to open his spyglass and look around for Jack. Problem was, with Prince's ship in the way, Barbossa couldn't really see across to the Navy ship where Jack was supposed to be steering. He _did_ notice that Prince's men were scurrying around to run out the cannons... and that did not bode well at all considering the _Pearl_'s crew was entirely too busy fighting for its life to worry about loading their own guns. "Board 'em!" Barbossa bellowed suddenly. "We take the fight over there, gents! Move! Hurry like you're bein paid for it, or so help me!"

It didn't take his men long to adjust to the change of plans, especially with the captain screaming in their faces and driving them with the (non-buckle) end of his belt. The ships had drifted so close in the chaos as to be easily within the distance of a plank, so the pirates streamed over in a shouting rushing mass.

Prince's men, leaderless, pursued several different strategies at once. Some fled from their ship over to the Navy one to make their stand there. Others tried to repel the boarders, and still others ran downstairs to try and speed up the loading of the guns.

Barbossa tore off his coat and climbed up on the railing, rope in hand, to swing over. Just before he jumped, though, someone grabbed him by the ankle. "Wait!"

It was Elizabeth. "Wait," she repeated, climbing up to stand beside him. "Will's already over there, and I've always wanted to do this." She put her arms around him and said, "All right - go. I'll hang on."

"Ye _must _be joking." When he saw that she was not, he rearranged her so that her head was tight to his chest and her arms locked fully around his neck and shoulder. "When we land, you go left and I right. And if we be shot at on the way over, it's _ye _will take the bullet, understood?"

She giggled, hoping it was a joke. He wrapped the rope around one hand and put his other around her shoulders. _One-handed?_ She hesitated - fun was one thing, but that was...

"If we're to be doin this, miss, we'll be doin it right," he explained, winking down at her. "D'you want to wear me hat, too?"

She took it off, settled it on her head, and fluttered her eyelashes at him from under the brim. A moment later they were locked in a quick but hungry kiss, and as she wasn't sure who'd started it, afterwards she felt she had to explain herself somehow. "I just finished with Lord Beckett," she said, "And I needed to rinse my mouth out."

"Hah - course you did." He shifted his grip on the rope and looked out at the melee. "Count of three and we're off. Ready? One... _three!_" He jumped.

Caught totally by surprise, Elizabeth seized up and clung to him much tighter than she would have been able to on purpose. He was laughing joyously as they flew, and she found herself laughing too even though they were headed into a battle for their lives.

* * *

Meanwhile. 

Once Norrington had coughed up a lungful of water onto the deck of the _Dutchman, _the first thing he did was demand, "Why did you provoke those pirates like that? They're likely to turn nasty now, and as all of my men are currently at their mercy-"

"_Your _men?" Davy repeated, _tsk_ing at him. "The soldiers are no longer your concern... although, I suppose by the end of the day," he snickered, "Some of them will be."

"Which brings me to my next question." Norrington stood up and clasped his hands behind his back. "If I'm to take over for you, I must know what the job entails. Explain it to me, if you would."

He and Davy walked over to the railing and stood side by side, painfully straight, looking away from each other as they contemplated their difficult subject. "Those who die at sea," Davy began, "Rarely die at peace. Certainly not in a state of grace - whatever _that_ is." He snorted, a soggy sort of noise that made Norrington wince. "And they don't often find their way to the other side alone." His beard was writhing slowly, uncomfortably, as he spoke. "They... wander. Float, you know, like all restless souls... waiting for help in passing on. Some you'll find still in the water, but soon enough they all end up drifting to World's End."

"World's End?" Norrington repeated. "That's where the dead... collect?"

"Aye. Tis possible with a little luck and a lot of stupidity for _any _ship to sail into World's End and out again, but the _Dutchman _is unique for being able to take people from there into the place beyond. And _that _is the job." Davy almost ended there. There was so much he needed to get off his chest, though, and it was _so_ rare to have someone to say it to, that he found he couldn't help himself. A tentacle curled up to rub at the back of his neck self-consciously. "It... errm... does get old after a while," he admitted at last, "Gathering up hordes of people who beg - _beg_, mind you_ -_ not to be taken from the world... corralling them into oblivion whether they like it or not..."

"Peace," Norrington corrected firmly. "They're going to be at _peace_. You're taking them to where souls are meant to go."

Davy flashed him a dark smile. "Oh, certainly. And I'm sure you'll enjoy telling that to the hysterical mother who wails over and over that her children _need _her and she just can't leave. Explain it to the sailors who die with a year's worth of sins on their conscience and believe with all their hearts that you're sending them straight to Hell."

Norrington swallowed. "Am I?"

"Of course not! But nobody takes your word for it. And when you get tired of hearing the ungrateful wretches cursing you up and down, trip after trip, year after year, when they have no choice and neither do you, you just... stop." He shook his head. "I expect World's End is a very crowded place these days."

"Well, I will uncrowd it." Norrington moved out of habit to grasp the railing, recoiled when he felt all the slime... and then forced himself to relax. The _Dutchman _felt cool and slippery beneath his hands. Almost alive. "I can do this."

"I'm glad to hear it," Davy said, not at all kindly, "Because once you and I shake on it... you'll have to."

* * *

TBC. 

Beckett as babysitter might just end up as a deleted scene along with Davy taking a bath, because it's really silly.

Big thanks to everyone who reviews! To any nice people: it totally makes my day! To the pirates out there: be aware that feedback psyches me up to post more and faster, so it's in fact worth your while to say something.

And finally: we are fast approaching the end, so if there's anything you'd like to see, this would be the opportune moment to let me know. I'll update soon. Saturday or Sunday for sure.


	25. Will borrows a waistcoat

A/N: It's my understanding that the long vesty thingie worn beneath a pirate's coat is called a "waistcoat." If this is incorrect, please enlighten me!

* * *

When they landed, Barbossa and Elizabeth threw themselves on the nearest two pirates and wrestled their swords out of their hands. Elizabeth stabbed someone and then ducked as Barbossa swung his blade in a wide arc just about throat-level on all the people around them. 

It was no fun for her now. Fighting for her life (or more; if Annie was right she was fighting for two now, although it wouldn't do to get distracted thinking about that at the m-)

"ARR!" Barbossa jammed his sword into someone's guts and then, without time to free it, threw himself towards Elizabeth and headbutted the pirate who had been about to shoot her. "Pay attention," he spat, knocking two heads together, "Or we'll both-"

"Here!" She handed him her own sword, reasoning that he was far and away the better swordsman and these days twice as strong to boot. While he encouraged enemies to keep their distance with huge wild strokes in every direction, Elizabeth braced her foot on the stomach where the other sword was buried and yanked it free so that they were both armed again. "Right, let's go!" She put her back to him and got to work.

A moment later they heard a cannon go off and she jumped. Barbossa grabbed her and ordered, "Take some men and get below. Stop 'em firin on the _Pearl_-" Another few cannons went off and he flinched. "Quick! If she takes damage I'll have you keel-hauled!"

Elizabeth's jaw dropped but before she'd had time to express her outrage he'd spun away again. Before she left she glanced back at him... and then stood there mesmerized. She'd seen Barbossa fighting an awful lot over the years, sometimes cool and sometimes frantic, but never quite like this. He was nothing short of savage today, bellowing and jumping and heaving himself left and right with an athleticism she'd never even dreamed of in pirate who was usually old enough to be someone's grandfather. "Go!" he shouted when he saw her staring. He looked like a wild beast. She went. Fast.

* * *

On the way to the hatch she caught sight of Willie. She mimicked his warcry and of course he turned at once to see where the other _LIKILIKILIKI _was coming from. She gestured for him to follow her, tapped on a few more of her shipmates (they all obeyed her without question, mainly because she was wearing the captain's hat) and headed downstairs. 

They were loading the guns – on one pirate's orders. Delighted to have found someone who was actually in charge, Elizabeth leaped over to him, punched him in the face, and ordered him at knifepoint to hold fire. After a brief verbal exchange ("You expect me to step aside for _you_?" "No... I _expect _you to refuse, lose an eye, and _then _step aside so as not to lose the other. How does that sound?") he shouted for his men to halt. Elizabeth nodded at him and eased up off his jugular just a little. "Wise choice. Now tell them to load the cannons on the _other _side – we're not firing on the _Pearl_, but we _are _going to blow that other boat to pieces. Oh, what do _you _care," she snarled over his objections. "It's a bloody Navy ship you wouldn't be caught dead sailing anyhow. Now do what I tell you, and then you get to survive this."

* * *

Up on deck, Barbossa was hacking a path towards the helm, bent on physically taking control of the ship all by himself. He was having a great time. Eventually, though, even though thundering along with no concern for anything except where his sword was going in the next moment felt wonderful, he finally forced himself turn once to see how his allies were making out. 

It was very, very good timing.

He and Will caught sight of each other through the chaos and then Will's eyes widened. He dashed forward, teeth bared, and yanked out a knife. Barbossa had just time to frown in confusion before the throw, and then the next thing he knew his hand was smashing against the mast over his head with Will's knife sticking out of its sleeve.

He looked up at it stupidly and tried to jerk his arm free. All he got for his trouble was a sharp pain and the realization that he wasn't going anywhere. _Boy skewered me,_ he thought with dull surprise.

Half a second later there was a huge crash as a sail along with its ropes and several pulleys obliterated the spot where he had been about to go. He got it then - Will had seen it coming and had saved him from getting squashed.

Quick thinking on the whelp's part and an incredibly good (or lucky) throw, and yet somehow Barbossa was not exactly thrilled about it. He looked up and then away again, not liking that a big red stain was spreading down his sleeve. He put his sword away and steeled himself to tear free with his other hand, but before he could, Will was upon him.

"Sorry, my fault, God you're bleeding I'm so sorry," Will babbled, kicking over a body to stand on so he could see better.

Figuring that one person losing his cool was quite enough, Barbossa just sneered, "Come off it - I'm _supposed _to be bleeding. This be a battle."

"I'm going to pull it out." Someone grabbed Will from behind and he had to take a moment to fight loose. "When I do," he continued as though the interruption hadn't happened, "Take that rag off your head and wrap it tight to stop the bleeding - you can't pass out now, we need you."

He yanked the knife free. Barbossa did as he was told, although he did growl, "Truly touched by your concern, Turner."

"Yes well I learn from the best. Now come on, we have to hurry - I still don't see Jack."

* * *

Jack was currently alive and well although not quite as well as he might be. As soon as he'd realized a battle was underway, he had decided to make himself scarce given that he was on a ship of enemy pirates and enemy soldiers who would likely (even if they didn't go out of their respective ways to kill him deliberately, which they might) catch him in the crossfire when they went at it. 

"Oh, look - a war zone!" Jack pointed across to the _Pearl _cheerfully. "Who wants to steer?"

He was immediately shouldered aside and relieved of his piloting duties. Because his captors' first priority was to take care of the wheel, Jack had a few seconds during which nobody was watching him. He profited by this time to throw a rope over the railing and climb down.

Now he was out of sight, but for added security he clung to the side of the ship and carefully made his way around from the stern to the side which was facing _away _from all the action. Discovering that the guns had been run out, he straddled one and relaxed back against the hull, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the desperate battle. It was a roar that became soothing after a while.

It had been a long day. Jack dozed off and fell from his seat.

* * *

Will and Barbossa made it up to the helm and cleared the deck there on their own, very impressed with each other's fighting skills - Will was working without a sword now and Barbossa was doing everything with just one hand. 

Will held the stairway while Barbossa went for the wheel. "Captain, give me your waistcoat," he shouted at last when he began to get tired.

Barbossa took it off and threw it to him without asking questions. As soon as he had a second to spare Will stretched the thick embroidered piece across the foot of the staircase, pinning it with knives to the railing on both sides. Then he ran back up the stairs and pushed bodies down until they piled up behind it, effectively sealing the deck off from attack so they were free to steer in peace. "There. Better, eh? How's your hand?"

"Not now, boy. Hard to starboard and tell those lumps to hold on."

Will shouted down the orders and noted that the majority of the people left on deck were part of the _Pearl_'s crew - most of Prince's survivors had by now migrated over to the Navy ship to make their last stand there. Given that the battle was dying down, Will figured he could afford a moment for complaining. "Enough of that _boy _business. Aside from my being far too old, _you _are starting to come in blond on top, which means you've lost any and all Old-Man-of-the-Sea rights that-"

"HOLD FAST!" Barbossa bellowed as their bow at last nudged the ship beside it. The deck rocked and Will pitched forward, tumbling to the floor in an undignified heap. Barbossa grinned down at him, not even having lost his balance. "Now ye were just sayin what..._boy_?"

"Arr," Will answered. He got up and poked the captain in the chest. "One more sip of that fountain," he said, voice pitched low with pretend menace, "And I'll be calling _you _'boy.' What are you going to do about it?"

With their faces mere inches apart, Will shoved once. It was playful though hard, and Barbossa shoved back with the promise, "We'll finish this later." He turned back to the wheel and bumped the other ship once more, then with Will's help eased into position beside her.

Even from up on deck they could hear Elizabeth shriek _FIRE ALL _and then the Navy ship was rocked with a fierce broadside.

Barbossa began bellowing orders to board her, adding "Spare the peacocks and kill the rest!" out of respect for his deal with Gilette. He turned to Will. "Elizabeth's downstairs..."

"I'll see to her. You go look for Jack. Can I have my knife back? It was my last one."

"No - you stabbed me with it, I'm keepin it." Barbossa grabbed up a rope and looked around. In the absence of a grappling hook he ended up tying on his boot instead, and on his very first throw, successfully entangled it in the rigging so he could swing across (one-handed again, although this time from necessity rather than for fun). "HA HA HA HAAA- HARRRR!"

* * *

TBC. 

I had a list of strange scenarios I wanted to accomplish during this story. I am currently working on "Barbossa kicking ass while naked." I've already got rid of his coat, hat, belt, vest, bandana, and one shoe. I've got plans for the shirt too, but maybe I'll let him keep his pants on so as to keep it PG-13 and all...

Next chapter we'll see some James & Charlotte, as well as a bit more swashbuckling. Leave me love!


	26. Charlotte turns a little mean

A/N: Apologies for leaving without posting this time. That means this chapter is basically two in one, and is super freakishly long. Enjoy!

* * *

Norrington tried the bedroom door, found it locked, and shouldered it open without even bothering to knock. "Charlotte!" 

She sat up in bed, gasped his name once, and then relaxed. James bursting through the door in a frenzy was nothing new. At least he wasn't falling over himself and sicking up on the carpet this time. "What's the matter, dear?" she sighed.

"Charlotte." He threw himself to his knees by the bed and took her hands. "Listen. Listen to me, you have to understand, whatever happens I will obey you in this, no matter what you tell me, do you understand me?"

She blinked, trying to make sense of his feverish babbling even though her brain was still fogged by sleep. "No."

"I mean..." He took a deep breath and then rushed on. "Look, I have a chance to redeem myself, a chance to put right everything I've ever done wrong... But it's a terrible- I've no right- I mean I won't do it without your permission, that's what I'm saying. Do you understand _now_?"

She looked to the window, realized it was still dark, and started to light a lamp. "James, are you drunk?"

"Am I..." He dropped her hands and scooted backwards. "Charlotte..." After a moment he waved her an apology. "No, you're right, that's a fair question. To which the answer is a most emphatic _no_. Shall I explain myself?"

"Please do." Charlotte patted the bed and he came to sit beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Now don't get excited. Don't speak in riddles. Start at the beginning, tell me everything, and we'll sort it all out."

He tried to begin at the very beginning. "I'm sure Elizabeth has explained to you all the details about Davy Jones and the curse of the _Flying Dutchman_?..."

* * *

When he was done they sat in silence for a while. "You're serious?" she asked at last. He nodded. "And the _offer_ is serious? Honestly? You've heard it from Davy himself?" 

"We discussed it at length."

"James... I don't know what to say," she said after another long silence.

"Then say go. Say not to go." He was so tense he was getting impatient with her. "Say _something_."

"I think... I know it would be best for you, James, any fool could see that. I know you're down a deep hole... and this would most definitely show you a way out... but I just..." She paused and did a few sums in her head until the need to cry had passed. "I just always hoped that we would be able to sort it out on our own. I wanted to help you-" Her voice cracked and she stopped.

He pulled her fully onto his lap and stroked her hair while she hid in his shoulder. "Charlotte, you _have _helped me... always... done more than I ever had a right to ask..." He realized that she was holding her breath so as not to cry. "Come, don't hold back on _my _account," he said, "I've spent enough nights sobbing into _your _skirts, haven't I? Although I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw up on me... you're entitled to do that too, of course, it's only fair, but still..."

A short little burst of laughter, and then she started sobbing. "James, I _love _you," she wailed.

"I know. And I'm so sorry." He sighed and swallowed hard, but his eyes were dry. "Now listen: Your son's a grown man, I trust him, he can know. As for the others... write to London right away, tell the children Papa met with an unfortunate accident, and by the time they're done with school and come home, they'll be practically grown too and they'll hardly miss me. My finances are in order; you'll all be provided for..." She was muffling all noise in his collar, but he could still feel her shaking and it scared him - Charlotte was always a rock and he could count on one hand the times he'd seen her cry. "Darling, listen. It makes me ill to think what a burden I've been," he murmured. "Lately I've done nothing of value at all, and we both know I'm not needed around here..."

She sat partway up and shoved at his chest. "_I _need you, you hippopotamus!"

He blinked. "Hippopotamus?"

"You great- insensitive- lummoxy- _beast_," she shrieked, pushing with every word. "Listen to you! How can you talk about abandoning me, after all we've cared for each other?"

"Charlotte." He took her hands and held them still. "For all intents and purposes I've abandoned you long ago. You know that."

A beat. "I know." She pushed her hair off her face, took a deep breath, and waited until she could sound calm. "And I never said a thing to you about it, did I. Hating yourself for no good reason... making misery for everybody around you... James, you had _no right_ to withdraw from me all this time, not after you promised to be here til death do us part. It was a horribly selfish thing to do."

"I admit I deserve every word, but Charlotte, please, I beg you, don't choose _tonight_ to be harsh with me."

"Tonight may be my last chance," she snapped, wriggling away from him. "And anyway, this should be a nice change of pace. You've got enough memories of my being indulgent to last a lifetime, don't you think?"

It was only on the rare occassions when he'd actually managed to worry or upset her that his wife became mean and waspish. He wished he knew how to make things better, but with no idea how to apologize, he didn't even try and just said what was actually in his head: "Once more. Cosset me once more... please? I promise it will be the last time."

She melted. Lunging at him to squeeze him tight, she murmured "James, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry,_" into his neck. "I don't mean to make this harder for you, truly I don't... it's just it makes me wretched to lose you. I'm sorry."

They held each other for a bit. Finally he asked, hesitating as though he half-wanted her to say no: "So you think I should go, then?"

"I think you're miserable and you have a chance to rectify it. I wouldn't for all the world hold you back." Charlotte wiped her eyes and tried to smile. "I can still see you every now and again, can't I?"

"Every ten years."

She got up off his lap and started pacing around the bed, nightgown trailing out behind her as she turned the corners. "When I married you," she said steadily, "I had no idea you'd be disgraced and spend the rest of your career sailing a desk. I _thought _that you'd be constantly away at sea and that I'd be one of those wives who watches the horizon every day waiting for the return of her beloved. I was prepared for it then." She turned to him and crossed her arms. "I suppose I'm prepared for it now. Although I can't..." She shivered a little and hugged herself. "I can't quite grasp it. What - you leave tonight, and then... I don't see you for... _ten years_?"

"Possibly." He got to his feet too but didn't come close to her. "I'm sure Elizabeth's told you this: I can come ashore in ten years, if... and only if..."

"Your wife is faithful," she remembered. "James, I repeat: you insensitive lummox! Are you _trying _to hurt my feelings?"

"I just mean I know it's unreasonable to expect-"

"Expect what you like," she said loftily. "I'll be here. Unless of course I've taken up with Jack Sparrow in the meantime, in the hopes of running into you at sea someplace. James..."

They tumbled into another tight hug. He was her dream come true tonight, caring and sober and resolute... but she knew it would only last as long as he wasn't going to stay.

Apparently he was thinking the same thing. "Ironic, isn't it, that it's the moment I sign up for eternal punishment when I realize perhaps I don't hate myself so much after all..."

"You're going to feel better," she promised in a whisper, refusing to add _and I'm not _even to herself. She looked up at him, arms locked around his waist. "Can you..." Her voice started to crack again and she cleared her throat to fix it. "Can you stay tonight, or do you have to... leave... right away?"

He took off his coat and hung it neatly over the back of a chair.

* * *

Barbossa had slightly modified his usual methods for this last part of the fight. Instead of lashing out as fast as he could in as many directions at once as was humanly possible, he had started grabbing people one by one, shouting "_Where be Jack Sparrow?!_", and then, when they invariably failed to answer him, running them through and moving on to the next victim. 

It was a loud chaotic mess. Everybody was crowded onto the foundering Navy ship while the _Pearl _and Prince's ship drifted on, abandoned. Nobody actually _wanted _the sinking ship and there was no real quarrel between any of the parties, so none of the combattants were really clear on what they were fighting for. In addition, Gilette's men made very poor allies in that they couldn't reliably distinguish between the good pirates and the bad. It was a mess, and Barbossa wanted to sort it out as quickly as possible. But first he had to find Jack...

Elizabeth was eventually beside him. "What happened to you?" she shouted.

"Your husband did it. _WHERE BE JACK SPARROW?_" He ran another person through and then turned to her with a wicked smile. "I spose he must have seen you rinsin your mouth out."

She refused to feel guilty. "Oh, yes, because he's never seen _that _before," she said, rolling her eyes. "Listen, you. Come here." She pulled him underneath the stairs so they would have a moment in peace and ordered, "Now take your shirt off."

Her hand was hot in his, her voice breathless, and she looked positively _darling _underneath his hat... but this was no time for flirting. Mostly. "Anything you say, miss," he purred as he went for the buttons.

She peeled the shirt off and used it to wrap his arm tight to his chest "so you'll stop hitting people with it," while he tried not to notice her trying not to notice him.

He didn't even realize until she was done: "Elizabeth, I can't fight like this."

"Meaning you can't go and get yourself killed playing berserker when you're already injured. That's the whole idea," she said as she cinched the knot up. "It was this or try and knock you unconscious... which was out of the question." She trailed her fingers over his cheek and breathed: "Wouldn't want to do damage to that pretty face." One more smirk and then she was gone. "I'll see to the fighting," she called over her shoulder as they parted ways. "You just find Jack!"

He glared at her back and then kicked himself for what had just happened. He'd been too busy watching the adorable way she bit her lip in concentration to pay attention to the fact that what she was concentrating on was effectively tying him up! He tried to use his free hand to angle his sword up under the constricting sling to cut it off, but all he managed to do was scratch himself in the shoulder... and he was feeling a little too vain just now to risk his looks unnecessarily.

Fine. Exhilarating though it was, he would have to give up the fighting for now. It was time to find Jack.

* * *

In the end he stumbled on him by chance - Barbossa was holding someone upside-down over the railing threatening to drop him, when a voice floated up to them, "_IS THAT YOU, MATE?_" 

He dropped his prisoner down into the sea and leaned over. "Jack?"

A few minutes later he had thrown over a rope and climbed one-handed down to where Jack was hanging by both arms beneath a cannon. "Mind tellin me what you're doin down here?" he snarled.

Jack started to answer, but all of a sudden he noticed the rope was fraying before his eyes. "Oh no hang on-"

"To what?!" Barbossa snapped in a panic - neither of them had a free hand to grab hold with. The rope snapped and next thing they knew, Jack was still hanging onto the cannon and Barbossa was beneath him, dangling by his sling, which was caught on Jack's foot.

For a moment the weight was all on his neck and he choked, and then it was all on his bad arm and he swore, and then finally he got a sturdy two-handed grip and tried to catch his breath.

"Um. Help?" Jack's arms had long since given out and he had laced his fingers up over the cannon to try and last a little longer.

"Help how?" Barbossa looked up to the railing, an impossible distance away. "What exactly d'you expect me to do from here?"

"Reach down my pants!" Jack suggested excitedly. Barbossa growled low in his throat and Jack rushed to explain: "No no no, I mean it - I've got a gun hid down me pants. Take it out, climb up over me and stick the gun in beside the cannon. Shoot out the rope that's holding the cannon in place. It'll roll back and then we'll have space to crawl inside through the port. We won't have to climb at all."

"I am not reachin down your pants, Jack."

"Yes, you are."

"I am not!"

"Are too, or I'll kick you loose. Go on."

"I refuse," Barbossa said steadily. "Dispute!"

Jack heaved a sigh and shifted his grip a little. "There's no disputing in the middle of a crisis, mate. Your rule, not mine."

Thanking his lucky stars that he was no longer a feeble old man, Barbossa shifted his grip too, and settled in for the long haul. "The battle be up there and we be down here, Jack. Hardly a crisis, in my view. I repeat: dispute."

Jack heaved an angry sigh. "Very well, _I _dispute as to whether or not this is actually a crisis and therefore-"

"Your callin a dispute as to whether or not it be a crisis indicates to me that you _know _it's not a crisis, and therefore-"

"I SAID I DISPUTE!" Jack shouted. "Now shut up and tell me whose turn it is!"

Barbossa's injured hand was starting to complain. "It's my turn, and under the circumstances I spose the animal game be the only contest possible. Winner can say whether or not this be a crisis, _and _what we do about it. Animal game. You start."

"Aardvark."

"Aardvark _bear_."

"Aardvark bear cuttlefish," Jack shot back.

"Aardvark bear cuttlefish... _dog._"

Never much of a whiz at the animal game, Barbossa was struggling already, while it seemed Jack was just getting warmed up. "Aardvark bear cuttlefish dog _earwig_!"

"Aardvark bear... er, cuttlefish, dog... mm, earwig... and...fff... frog." Next he came up with _horse, _and then after one look at the sea below them he had _jellyfish._

He was out of his league, though, and completely out of animals by the time Jack rattled off without taking a breath: "Aardvark bear cuttlefish dog earwig frog gila-monster horse iguana jellyfish kraken lizard mermaid newt orangutan parrot and _quoala_."

"What was that?" Barbossa demanded.

"No fair asking for repeats! The next words out of your mouth better be _aardvark bear, _or I win."

Barbossa shifted his grip again so he could stare up at Jack for maximum gloating power. "_Koala _doesn't start with Q, you idiot."

"Really?" Jack sounded fascinated.

"Yes, really. _I_ win. Now I am _not _reachin down your pants. How else can we handle this?"

"Falling."

"Ridiculous. We don't want-

After all that time, Jack's grip on the cannon had finally slipped and they crashed down into the sea.

* * *

When Jack broke the surface he started explaining at once. "I didn't mean we _should _fall, I meant we _were _falling." 

Barbossa was too busy bellowing to answer - he had landed flat on his stomach and with no shirt on it was excrutiating. Jack splashed over to him and took his arm. "Now what?"

Nearly out of clothes to shred, Barbossa kicked off his one remaining boot to get at his sock. "Now we hurry," he snarled, wrapping his hand while he talked. "S is for _shark_, remember? There be plenty of blood in the water and you're swimmin right next to some of it. I'd give me some distance, if I were you."

They struck out for the _Pearl,_ which fortunately hadn't got very far since being abandoned. There were enough grappling hooks and ropes hanging off her that it wasn't too hard to find a place to climb up.

Once there, they picked through the bodies to find a few who were still breathing, released Beckett and his young charge from the brig, and with just that sorry company, managed to get the ship underway. Confident that Elizabeth and the Williams had managed to resolve the battle to their satisfaction, the captains spent most of their conversation on good-natured complaining - Barbossa about his hand and Jack about how nobody ever wins with Q.

Their good mood persisted for a while, right about until they caught up to the crippled ship where Elizabeth and her Williams had indeed gotten everything under control. They pulled up alongside and just then, the sea behind them erupted.

Jack's snippy remark about uninvited guests died in his throat - at the helm of the _Dutchman, _standing between Davy Jones and an eel-headed lieutenant, was James Norrington... looking like even less fun than usual.

* * *

TBC. 

Whew! And that will be it for massive battles. We still get to see Norrington on the job, and a little bit of wrap-up on the trip home. Poor Barbie, losing all his pet landlubbers! At least he'll always have Jack (the pirate, that is - Jack the monkey now belongs to Norrington) hehe.


	27. Norrington clocks in

At first, Davy was impressed with how calmly and methodically Norrington looked over the situation. He took in the sinking ship, the wounded people flopping around in the water, and all the dead bodies - many of them in uniform - without flinching...

And then Davy realized that it was shock, not stoicism, and he got annoyed. "Well?" he snapped. "You're in charge, _Captain_. What next?"

"Next." Norrington took a breath. "Next? Next. Well, first... obviously, the dead, I'll… I'll take the dead with me. You'll show me the way through World's End and we can-"

"The dead can wait," Davy said with more than a touch of amusement. He pointed with his claw down into the water. "It's _those _who cannot."

"Right." Another slow, long drag of air. "Mr., er, Eel. Have the survivors fetched up here immediately. Unharmed." While the fish-people jumped overboard to obey, Norrington turned to Davy and asked quietly, "It's my understanding that you tended to offer a choice between service and death. If I want to set them free instead...?"

"You'll be surprised how many won't go. Hardly a scratch and they'll beg to be taken on." Even without a proper mouth, Davy managed a sort of disgusted lip-curl. "Men are cowards."

"All the same, they'll have their choice. Set them down over there," he called as fish-people began dumping pirates and soldiers down onto the deck in dripping heaps. He waited until everyone had been fetched up, then stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. "Attention, all of you." The yammering prisoners grew quiet immediately even though he'd hardly raised his voice. "I am Captain James Norrington of the _Flying Dutchman_. I presume you all know why you're here: you were lost at sea and unable to return to safety under your own power." There was a little muttering, but he silenced it easily with: "The policy whereunder the _Dutchman _takes immediate possession of such people is no longer in effect. You are all free to go."

The healthiest of them began exchanging smiles and celebratory handshakes. Some of the others, too weak to rise, looked confused. "Go... where?" one croaked.

Norrington felt a nudge from behind. "For those of you who..."

While he searched for the most proper phrasing, Davy jumped in. "..._Fear death,_" he continued, "There is, of course, another option. _Captain _Norrington is going to explain it to you now. Well…_Captain_?"

"I-... If you doubt your, erm, ability to... well, _survive,_" he put together at last, "Then you are... welcome... to join the crew of this ship instead."

"For one hundred years," Davy added. "You can't offer the _Dutchman _less. A few men found that out... the hard way…"

"The hard way?" someone asked.

"The ship didn't... mm... _accept_ them," he hedged with a small dark smile. Norrington cleared his throat impatiently, so Davy shrugged and spelled it out. "As soon as I took us underwater, the fools drowned." While the injured men whispered nervously amongst themselves, Davy helped Norrington judge who was beyond saving. Looking, touching every now and then, they were both able to sense without much trouble who might heal and who was well on the way out.

Four of the men they pulled from the water were dying. Two opted to join and two opted for death... which Norrington provided.

Now that it was too late for any mind-changing, Davy figured it was safe to taunt him a little. "Do you feel better yet?" he asked as Norrington wiped off his blade.

"No. I believe that's the whole point." Norrington's answer was clipped and cold. "If penance were easy, it wouldn't be penance. Shall we see about the people over on the ship next?"

* * *

The first wrinkle came when Elizabeth saw him and gasped "James!" in a sort of anguished and heartwrenching way. She started forward but Will stopped her, grabbing her much more forcefully than Norrington would have expected and hissing _No_. 

Norrington could hardly fault him - and he knew he'd have done the same in his place - but still it hurt. Overnight he'd gone from a friend worthy of hugs and kisses to a monster that ladies in delicate condition wouldn't even approach.

So that put him in a bad mood. He informed the wounded of their choices without even looking at them, and thought it something of a bad sign that on his very first day of the job he had already had more than enough. "Whoever prefers to take his chances alone, step that way," he ordered, trying not to hear Davy chuckling behind him. "You will not be molested. Whoever knows he has no chance - correct, sailor, you're among them - and does not wish to wait while nature takes its course... you may opt for death now, or you may postpone it by serving a hundred years on my ship. Fair warning: the ship is cursed and it will not be pleasant. Who is ready to die?"

After a moment of silence a few hands went up. Trying not to look at Elizabeth, Norrington asked for last requests and granted them as long as they were simple – one wanted a blade rather than a bullet, one wanted to face east, and one wanted to die in the arms of a pretty lady. Elizabeth went to him without even being asked, and Norrington told himself he should see about finding a resident pretty lady to keep aboard the _Dutchman _in case this sort of thing should come up again.

When he was done he looked at the remaining two hopeless cases and asked, "You two will join me?"

One, a pirate, nodded and gasped out a few swear words. The other, a soldier, raised his head and pulled the makeshift bandage off his face. Norrington was so busy flinching from his appalling injury (a poked-out eye was dangling down from its socket) that he wouldn't have recognized him save for the voice. "I'd be glad to, sir."

Norrington's jaw dropped. "Gilette?"

Gilette could read him easily. "We've been here before, sir. I agreed to the _Dutchman _then and I agree to it now. Much more happily, considering I'll be sailing under you this time. No offence intended, Mr. Jones," he added to Davy. When Norrington still was stuck for words, he gestured to his face and prompted: "I'd appreciate it if you accepted my allegiance at once, and had your men set about repairing this."

"I… I can't condemn you to…"

"I said I'd be glad – and it's not just the eye. There's nothing I'd like more than to second you on a mission you actually believe in. It's been quite some time now, hasn't it? Will you have me?"

"Gilette, nothing would please me more than to spare you to a normal life. Failing that, I would be honored to conduct you to whatever peace lies beyond the grave. But…" He took a deep breath – through his mouth this time, remembering to keep his new gills closed so they didn't wheeze. He meant up til the very last second to refuse to take him. "But I would be lying," he said instead, after a long hesitation, "If I didn't also say that I would be eternally grateful…and I suppose I mean that literally, don't I… to have you sail with me."

That done, Norrington looked over his new crew once more and noticed that a few remained relatively human and healthy - Davy had bullied them into service not because they were dying, but just to be mean. "This is a one-time offer," he said suddenly. "If anyone wants to take his chances with leaving the _Dutchman_ – I've no idea what will happen to you – I'll allow it now."

Several of these less-mutated fishpeople stepped forward. "No offence, Captain-Former-Commodore-Turned-Pirate, sir," Pintel assured him. "But we've always had this… this _thing _for land, you know."

"We like it," Ragetti clarified. "'Ey… d'you think I'll get to keep this eye?"

Pintel poked the anemone growing on his friend's face. "That's not an eye, that's a-"

"Enough!" Norrington said sharply. "Go – all of you. I've no idea if you can live above water, I wish luck to you, and be sure you tell Sparrow this: I'm hoping with all my heart for him to have a very long and wonderful life, but there will be _no more _flitting about between worlds. The dead remain dead. Anything else is an abomination. I've assumed the duty of gatekeeper and I mean to take it seriously. Is that clear?"

Elizabeth gasped. "James, if one of _us_ died… you wouldn't honestly refuse us?" He didn't answer. "But we're your friends! That's inhuman…"

Instead of saying it,he just pulled aside his collar to show her the gooped-over cuts on his neck that Davy had given him to breathe underwater with. They squelched and flapped protestingly in the air.

Will stepped in, holding her protectively from behind and spreading a hand flat over her belly. "You don't worry about that," he whispered. "Everything will be fine with you, and if it's not, then so help me if death and Davy couldn't stand between us no _peacock _will either."

She pressed back against him. "Goodbye, James," she said, a little coldly. "I really do hope you find what you're looking for."

He gave her a short bow and left with his new crew. Davy laughed, dipped a curtsy, and followed him.

Will looked around. "In case none of you realize this," he called out, "This ship is sinking. Everyone who belongs on the _Pearl_ – or everyone who would _like_ to, I get the feeling Jack and Barbossa aren't particular – let's get over there now, shall we?"

* * *

After Norrington had finished, the pirates trooped back over to the _Black Pearl _straightaway. Willie swung over on a rope, made a perfect landing, and then looked straight up to the helm. He expected to see Captain Barbossa there at his usual spot, feet apart, both hands on the wheel, feather dancing proudly around in the wind... 

Instead he saw that the wheel had been tied off to keep it steady, and Barbossa was sitting perched precariously on the railing behind it - practically naked.

He headed up the stairs and waved to get the captain's attention. When Barbossa waved back Willie frowned and hurried. "What happened to your hand?" he asked, scooping it up to have a look. "And your... clothes?"

"Your mother did the clothes, your father the hand. And I assure ye it were all very professional and proper."

Willie laughed and then told him to hold still while he went and fetched something to disinfect with. Judging it unnecessary to admit just how much he'd rather have Elizabeth, Barbossa didn't argue with him.

Willie came back with a cleanish rag and a bottle of rum. "I almost had to kill somebody to get this," he said proudly, before peeling the blood-soaked bandana off the wound and getting to work. "You know... Mother's down there..." he said, hesitating with every word. "She's... walking around the ship... kind of... you know, sighing and touching everything..."

"Aye. Figured. I'm sorry."

There was something strange in the captain's tone, sympathetic and almost sad. Willie hoped he was misunderstanding. "What do you mean?"

Barbossa took a second too long to answer, and Willie jumped all over him. "Oh no you don't," he hissed. "Goodbye my codpiece! Don't you think for one _minute _I'm going anywhere!" The captain looked so amused that Willie had to smile too. "Civilized people would say, _goodbye, my foot, _right? Jack taught me the other."

To get a minute to think, Barbossa shook out his bandana and then tied it, blood and all, back on his head. He didn't see much choice here - in all their years of adventurin together Will had asked him a grand total of _one _favor: not to undermine his authority with his brats. Going back on that now - even _if _he had no ethical problems with it, which he maybe did - would make for a very big and messy fight. "If your father tells you to go, you'll go," he said at last. "I'm not interferin with him in this."

He could see the wheels turning in Willie's head and wasn't at all surprised when his next move was a derisive snort. "And you're going to let my father push you around?"

"Better t'be pushed around by a grown man than goaded by a kid into a fight I don't need," he answered. "But good try."

Willie sighed and flipped the injured hand over to get at the back. It occurred to him that manipulation was completely beyond him where the captain was concerned, so he switched tactics and tried reason instead. "Tell you what:" he said smoothly, wiping blood away with a touch so light it rivaled Elizabeth's, "If you absolutely _insist_, I'll go home first and then run away on my own so they don't know it's your fault. How about that? But you have to let me come back to the _Pearl_. It's what I want." Barbossa was watching him thoughtfully and he counted that as encouragement to continue... which he did, with more and more enthusiasm until he had completely lost his cool. "I know Mother worries too much lately and she thinks she's outgrowing all the better bits of life, but you know perhaps better than me how she'll eventually change her mind, and then _she _can charm her way right back here, but guess what? It'll be too late for me, I'll be old and fat, probably with a old fat wife and a pack of boring children to boot, I'll be of no use to anybody, you and Jack won't want me, and I'll have missed my chance!"

"Ow - all right, _enough_!" Barbossa snatched back his wounded hand, which Willie had been scrubbing more and more roughly while he got worked up, and wrapped it himself. "Calm down – there be room for a bargain here."

Willie crossed his arms. "I'm listening. But there's nothing you can offer me that will change my mind. If you send me back now-"

"Listenin." Barbossa pointed to a spot in the air, then drew a line with his hand. "Thinkin," he labeled a spot a little further on. Willie rolled his eyes as Barbossa continued the line a bit further before proclaiming the last spot: "Speakin." Afterwards he wiggled his fingers, winced a little, and adjusted the bandage while he talked. "Simple solution, boy: I'm sendin you away as before… and as before, it's not forever."

"Don't lie to me! If I go home to my parents they'll send me to a university. They'll marry me right off to some bleedin wench in a big dress."

"So? When you get tired of it-"

"Then it'll be too-"

Barbossa silenced him with a slap and then repeated: "-_When _you get tired of it, you may come back to the _Pearl. _Stop arguin with me." He hopped down from the railing and stood to his full height, wanting to give this invitation all the awesome respect it deserved: "There'll be no such thing as _too late _for ye. Jack and I're plannin on makin another trip to the Fountain of Youth sometime... bringin home enough of it to live as long as we care to. If the _Pearl _is still what you want..."

"I could come with you?" he whispered. "For... F..." He didn't dare say it.

"The word be _forever_," Barbossa suggested. "And no, you're not invited _forever_ - only until you annoy me enough to get thrown overboard. I figure at this rate, you'll manage it before half a lifetime's out... but who knows?" He shrugged carelessly and held out his hand. "You may surprise us, and in that case forever it is. As long as you like – but later on. Agreed?"

Willie shook on it, then even with one hand occupied managed to pull the captain into half a hug.

Barbossa knew that if he were seen hugging handsome young men while prancing around in nothing but his pants, Jack would never let him hear the end of it. "Get off, boy – for God's sake you know you'll visit in the meantime; I'll probably see you next summer. Let go. All right, aright, yes, wonderful, now let _go_," he growled, trying to wriggle free.

Willie squeezed even tighter, and the message was clear: _hug me or you're never getting out of here._ Eventually he grimaced and reached up to pat the boy gingerly on the back. "All right, there. Now let-"

"Well isn't that _sweet_!" Jack called from the top of the stairs. "And I never knew you cared..."

Barbossa jerked away, successfully this time, and snarled _Arrrrr _even more fiercely than usual.

"Easy, mate! Look, I found your coat and hat and a shirt and one of your shoes. And I'll give it all back if you-"

"_Arrrr_!"

"-Yep that'll work," Jack finished hastily. "All right then, here you go." While Barbossa dressed, Jack tried to figure out what the devil had been said between him and Willie.

Spouting a constant stream of seductive comments to hide the fact that he was thinking, Jack made some guesses to himself. He wondered if there was a fight between Will and Barbossa in the cards. He wondered if Willie had been told to go home and then run away again… perhaps fake his own death… no, Jack reflected, Barbossa would never think of that…

He knew he could always just _ask _what his partner was planning, but where would be the fun in that? "You should really do without the shirt all the time, mate. But put the sword belt back on," he advised, tracing his hand over where it would go. "It sort of draws the eye to- _OW_! What? It was a _compliment_!"

He followed Barbossa off, ignoring his growly muttering, and tried to set his hat on his head for him. "Wait, here… See? Perfect!" he proclaimed as he pulled it down over Barbossa's eyes as if by accident. He took the opportunity to glare at Willie, tap himself on the head, and point – _I'm onto you_ – and then by the time Barbossa had pulled his hat up and could see again, Jack was standing still beside him, the picture of innocence.

For some reason – maybe being young was more than physical after all? – Barbossa had to laugh. "Y'know, Jack," he drawled after a bit, "On second thought I'm _glad _we didn't find the Fountain of Youth this time. Sure, this way there always be a risk of death… but the other way? Gods below, I could have had to deal with ye _forever_… and there be a lot I'm not proud of but I can't say I'd wish that fate on anyone at all."

Jack shook his head with conviction. "Ooh, me neither, mate," he agreed, looking positively horrified at the thought.

* * *

The End.

* * *

A/N: Ok, I'll post some deleted scenes and then that'll be it. The goodbye between Lizzie and Will and Barbossa will be among them. It seemed sort of unnecessary in the end, which is why it's not here, but I still like it. So it'll be one of the deleted scenes. 

I may at some point post a one-shot or something, but I hereby officially resign from writing giant epic pirate stories. UNLESS, of course, there is any truth to the rumor of a Pirates 4. If it turns out that there will indeed be another movie, then my obsession will no doubt flare up again and I'll write a giantly long story that takes place two years after this one ended. Not that I've already envisioned a scene or two (haha Georgie you know what I'm talking about…)

But seriously, unless it turns out there will be a Pirates 4, this is it. So please, please, pretty please consider that I've been letting Jack and Barbossa cavort around in my head for an entire year to write this, and have a little pity on me – I swear my sanity has suffered permanent damage – and leave me a review!!!

Thanks for reading, everybody. You've all been great and I've had a wonderful time.


	28. Deleted Scenes

**A/N**: So I've tried to become sane, but pirates are still on my mind every now and again. I have here the handful of deleted scenes I promised... and I've also done fifty-some pages of a possible book four for this series. My intention was to not do any more giant pirate epics unless they decide to make a fourth movie. But now I'm starting to wonder: why not? Maybe I'll go ahead and edit it up and post it. What do you think - would you still read? **Let me know**, and I'll update here again in a week or so to let you know what I've decided.

**

* * *

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Fun yet pointless Jack/Barbossa bit.

Jack was leaning back to get the last few drops of rum out of his bottle when he was grabbed from behind and pitched headfirst into a wall.

His bottle smashed and his head cracked against cold brick. Only then did he remember his resolution never again to be caught drunk and helpless in a dark alley.

He fumbled for his gun as soon as he could get a hand free, but the attacker threw him to the ground and planted a knee in his back to hold him there. He went for the gun again as his head was jerked back by the hair-

"Now none o'that – I thought ye said you were through with shootin me."

Jack went limp with relief. "Barbossa. Gods you scared me. Let me up."

"No." The weight on him shifted as Barbossa made himself more comfortable. "What have I told ye about gettin caught out alone like this?"

"Look, mate, I'm drunk, it won't hap-"

"And _especially_ what have I told ye about gettin caught out alone _and drunk_?" Barbossa said over him.

Jack sighed. "All right, you've got me, I'm sorry, I- _AAH!"_ His decision to just hold still for the duration of the lecture went out the window when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck. "What are you- _ow_!" It was a cut, he could tell now. Two of them… so far.

"Shut up. You're the only one of me crew fool enough to wander off like cattle," Barbossa explained, "So it seems I ought to mark ye like cattle. This way people know who to return you home to next time y'get lost." He made a third cut and then stood up. Jack stood too and was immediately whacked upside the head.

When his drunk brain cleared a little, he saw his friend leaning against the wall still glowering at him. Jack grinned. "You were worried about me."

"Y'be pretty easy to worry about."

Jack checked his lip for blood and then put a hand to the back of his neck. "Fair enough. Feel better now?" Barbossa nodded, no longer radiating dangerous anger, so Jack dared ask, "What's that you cut on me?"

"_H_. Twas all I figured you'd hold still for."

"H?" Jack complained. "But nobody calls you Hector! People won't know who _H_ is – we'll be lucky if nobody takes me to Holland. Or Admiral Hornblower. Or-"

"I'd be happy to carve the rest of me name too, Jack."

"On second thought I suppose _H _is enough." Jack smirked. "But now I _am _going to call you Hector, and you can't stop me."

"Can't I?" Barbossa growled.

"No." Jack dusted himself off and started to flounce away towards the main street. "Cmon mate, let's pick ourselves up a couple of wenches and-"

Barbossa followed him and only just reined in the urge to whack him again. "Wenches? We're not in Tortuga, you idiot! This be Port Royal. Foolin around here is-"

"Oh. Is that why the girls keep shrieking when I ask 'em to name their price?"

Barbossa grabbed him by the back of the neck, grinding against his fresh cuts, and started steering him back towards the ship. "Jack, the next step be a collar," he warned. "And a leash."

"Ooh, then we'll get to be within five feet of each other _all_ the time," Jack said brightly. He threw his arm around Barbossa's shoulders and breathed into his face. "Won't that be fun?"

Barbossa detached him with a panicked spasm. "On second thought a leash be out of the question."

**The End.**

* * *

**The final goodbye scene between the pirates and the Turners:**

The four of them stood facing each other. Will and Elizabeth were holding hands. Jack had maneuvered himself to Barbossa's side and managed to stay there, no matter how hard Barbossa tried to angle himself so that he was standing alone.

"Well," Barbossa said at last. He nodded as if that would be his entire contribution.

"I... guess this is it, then," Will said hopefully.

Jack gave a knowing smile. "So it would seem."

"Honestly, Jack, we mean it," Elizabeth laughed. Her hands went to her stomach. "I'm getting too old for this and anyway, we've decided to raise this child to a _normal _life."

"Aye, that's what you said about that one, too." Barbossa nodded towards Willie, who stood by the mast carving his name into it with a dagger.

She giggled, then shrugged free of Will to come hug the pirates one by one. Jack was first, and she was obliged to give him a warning sort of headbutt when he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself. Barbossa got a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She stayed pressed to him for just a little longer than was proper, and held his hands when she stepped away. "I'm retiring from piracy for good this time, Captain. I mean it."

"Y'always mean it," he put in, but she ignored him.

"However," she continued, "I am more than willing for us to pay brief and civilized visits to each other. Like ordinary people... like ordinary _friends_."

He put his nose in the air. "Jack and I are goin to be extremely busy, miss," he said loftily.

Elizabeth gave his injured hand a mean little squeeze. "That's not funny. Don't you dare abandon me."

So he sighed and put a hand to her face. "Beg pardon, Will," he said without looking, then pulled her in and held her close. After a good long squeeze he made to whisper something into her ear, but at the last second thought better of it - there was, after all, his reputation to consider. "Don't worry, you'll see me again," he assured, out loud.

Afterwards he and Will shook hands. "I'll miss you, Captain - you've been growing on me," Will said with his usual bluntness. Then his eyes darted over to Willie and he added, "Thank you."

Barbossa shrugged. "It's in his blood, Will. You can't keep him ashore forever."

"Well, they say you can't _live _forever, either... and we all see how true that's turning out to be." He clapped the pirate on the shoulder and told him, "Take care of yourself."

"Aye, will do."

Will and Elizabeth gathered up their children and climbed into the waiting boat. Neither of them noticed the wave that their son aimed back at the captain, or the wink he got in response.

**The End.**

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* * *

**

What happened between Davy and Elizabeth when they were locked in the cabin together:

"Come - filth impresses nobody," Elizabeth declared. "If you want Tia Dalma to get anywhere _near_ you, you're going to have to change your clothes and take a bath. I mean it. Find me a tub."

Davy growled at the floor and it began to rearrange itself - an unappealing slimy ring rose up, squelching and burping, but eventually it formed a passable bathtub, complete with salty bathwater that oozed forth to fill it.

Elizabeth hunted through Davy's things until she found some lavender-scented beauty product that, while clearly intended for females, would work nicely. She didn't ask him why he kept it around.

"I will not set foot in that monstrosity," Davy declared, poking at the mound of bubbles with his hand-tentacle.

"No - you're going to sit in it. Without your clothes. At once."

He wiped his hand on his clothes and complained, "It stings."

"It does not!"

"It will when it gets in my eyes. And besides, _you_ don't tell _me_ whether it-"

"You'll get in that tub, or so help me, I'll... I'll hold you down and bathe you by force!"

They stared at each other for a long moment. Elizabeth cracked first, biting her lip in a vain effort to control a fit of giggles, and then Davy snorted at her. "Noisome shrew," he muttered. "If a bath be the quickest way to quiet you down, then a bath it is. Close your eyes."

Elizabeth turned her back so that he could undress, and waited to hear a splash. It didn't come. "Davy?" she asked after a moment. No answer. "_Davy._"

She turned, hands on her hips, and found that he had somehow climbed (fully clothed, still) up onto the organ, and was standing on it with his sword drawn. "I warn ye, do _not _try to follow me up here," he called down.

Elizabeth very nearly had to admit defeat... until she noticed that the ratty old coat she had confiscated from him was lying in a heap on the floor.

She hurried over to it, picked it up and held a dagger to it. "If you _ever _want to wear this coat again..."

Davy's beard immediately began to knot in agitation. "You- you won't dare!... I've had that coat-... I-... in a hundred years I've not found one I like half as much," he sputtered at last. "It's my favorite. If you rip it I'll-..."

Elizabeth backed away. "Come down and get in the bath," she said steadily. "And then we'll wash this, and then you can have it back."

"You'll let it alone. Swear it. On your offsprings' lives, swear it now."

"I swear." Elizabeth put the coat down and he relaxed. "Now, come on down and take your bath. There's a good boy."

**The End.**

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* * *

**

In the end I decided not to open up this particular can of worms... and besides, once AWE came out and we met Capn Teague I have to admit it's not likely. But it's written, so here you go.

**Takes place on the _Pearl_. Jack and Willie are off playing together...**

A small explosion went off, followed by some congratulatory whooping and laughing. Elizabeth shouted "Willie!" at the exact same moment Barbossa barked "Jack!"... and in the exact same tone.

First it made her smile and then it made her think. "Captain... how old is Jack really?" she asked a moment later, in what she hoped was a casual sort of way.

He was not at all fooled. "We don't know," he answered flatly.

"You don't know...?" she prompted.

"_That_." He shrugged. "But aye, it be a possibility." He looked over and grinned at her. "Now d'you see why he was so upset about my leadin that mutiny?"

"Mmm." She smiled back, nodding as the pieces fell into place. "And why you were so remarkably forgiving when he shot you. One would think you don't let people get away with that sort of thing."

"One would think," he agreed. He rubbed his arm where the transfusion scars were and then decided that he had said quite enough. "Course, maybe it's just because I'd already used up all my share of vindictive for the week - maroonin a pretty lady, leavin her to die on a beach, that sort of thing."

_He's infinitely more likely to survive if we could find him the blood of a relative..._

Elizabeth pushed the doctor's words from her head and forced herself to respect her friends' wish for secrecy. "Yes, that must be it," she giggled, and let him change the subject.

**_The End._**

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Leave me love! I've missed you guys!


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